I have messages on my voicemail, more newsworthy is that I actually have network coverage, even more newsworthy is that the messages aren’t all spam and wrong numbers (they seem to recycle old phone numbers very quickly in this country). I have a message from Wendy, the six people who’ve been following this blog regularly might remember her from the Cali, Colombia episode. The paragliding bomb-disposal tech who spent a few months traveling Colombia, Brazil, and Costa Rica getting big air time. Anyway, turns out she is about an hour’s ride up the road in Moab and hoping to catch up if I’m nearby. Which I am.

“Your front tyre pressure’s a little low”

After dealing with the campground cat’s inspection of my bike and gear I’m packed up and headed up the road for our brunch date. Moab was once a hidden secret of a town known only to hippies, climbers, mountainbikers, and other adventure sports fanatics. Nowadays it’s a bustling tourist haven lined with hotels, restaurants, ATV rental and adventure tourism companies. Two of the country’s most well known national parks are located within an hour’s drive, Canyonlands National Park and Arches National Park, there is also Dead Horse Point State Park and large areas of land designated National Forest, National Recreation Areas, and Bureau of Land Management (BLM) administered public land. So for anyone with the slightest interest in the outdoors, the general Moab vicinity is the place to be.

Along the way I stop at Wilson Arch, one of many naturally formed rock arch formations in the area. This one is literally right along the main highway.

Wilson Arch, UT

We meet up at Wendy’s motel and then head out to a place called The Jailhouse Cafe, apparently it once housed local hoodlums and criminals back in the wild west days. The place is packed and there’s a 25 minute wait, so by true Chinese logic this means the place must be pretty good, and it is. I have eggs benedict and fried potatoes, definitely better than my usual camp fare of packet pasta and a can of tuna. Wendy’s just out for the weekend, for now she’s based about six hours away in Wendover, her offer of a place to crash still stands and I’ll be headed there this coming weekend.

Wendy’s silver 1200GS in Moab, UT

Tomorrow’s a working day for some, so Wendy shoots off back to Wendover on her 1200GS while I head into the nearby Manti-Lasal National Forest for some exploring and camping. I’ll wait til the weekend crowds disperse somewhat before going into the more popular national parks.

Canyonlands is Utah’s largest national park, the less visited Needles Section in the south of the park is a good 50kms from the main road. It’s a pleasant and scenic ride though.

Canyonlands National Park

All the parks give you a map upon entry showing all the main attractions, walking trails, and lookout points. I ride around checking out each one and explore a few shorter trails.

These rock formations reminded me of meat pies… mmm…. pies

Ancient petroglyphs

Looking down into the maze of canyons that make up Canyonlands

I spend most of the day riding from point to point in the southern part of Canyonlands. The northern entrance is on the other side of Moab past Arches National Park so I’ll go there first and then check out the other side of Canyonlands another day.

Arches is so named because of its high concentration of natural arch formations. Some of the more notable examples require a bit of walking to go and see so I allow myself a bit more time there to walk around a bit more.

Delicate Arch is about a 6km round trip walk, uphill on the way there and down on the return. Not overly difficult but a little uncomfortable in my heavy riding pants. I set off in the late afternoon so it is not as hot and the light is better for photos.

Delicate Arch, Arches National Park, UT

The arch itself is located on the side of a hill, on the lip of a huge sandstone bowl. It’s a popular attraction and many people are on the trail which leads up to the opposing side of the bowl.

The arch is located on the rim of a large natural bowl

Strangely enough when I finally arrive at Delicate Arch everyone is crowded around on one side opposite the arch, it’s so named because the arch itself is slowly wearing away due to wind erosion and will eventually collapse, I assume that’s the reason everyone is keeping a safe distance. The two people closest to the arch taking photos are crouching behind a rock, for protection? So they don’t get busted by a ranger? I don’t know. I hadn’t noticed any warning signs disallowing people from approaching the arch, there’s one guy in the distance standing down in the bottom of the bowl taking photos so I start walking closer to the arch to get some better photos. I stop maybe 10 metres away to take a picture, and some Asian lady walks straight past me and right up to the arch and touches it.

That starts the floodgates, within seconds the entire crowd is rushing to stand under the arch and pet the sandstone to make sure it’s actually real and speed up the erosion process.

Balanced Rock, Arches NP

Sunset in Arches NP

The next day I do another trail, this time in the northern side of the park known as The Devil’s Playground. It’s a 12km loop trail that takes in several arch and other interesting rock formations. I’m better prepared this time and change into shorts before heading out on the trail. It’s another Utah scorcher and I’m pretty knackered by the end of it. It’s a good thing the parks provide drinking water at the trailhead!

Broken Arch

Double O Arch

More arches, arches everywhere!

Park Avenue

Later that afternoon I’m riding along the Colorado River that runs right next to Arches NP looking for somewhere to camp. I pass by a designated campground and spot two other bikers setting up tents, I chuck a U-ey and pull in beside them. Jon and Danny are both around my age and have spent the last couple of weeks riding around southern Utah. We all get along instantly and before long I’ve set up my tent next to them and we’re barbecuing chicken and vegetables for dinner and chatting well past dark. 

We take it pretty easy getting going the next morning, it warms up pretty soon so a dip in the river is warranted, the water is still very cold though. Jon and Danny are also going to check out Dead Horse Point and Canyonlands so we decide to ride together for the day. Jon is on a BMW F800GS and Danny has a Kawasaki KLR650.

Dead Horse Point is located on narrow strip of land jutting out over a canyon with steep cliffs on either side. It’s so named because back in the early days cowboys would round up wild horses by herding them into this narrow neck of land and corral them there, legend has it that they would then pick out the horses they wanted to keep and abandon the rest corralled on the point where they would die of thirst within sight of the Colorado River far below.

With a couple of ‘Merican Advriders Jon and Danny at Dead Horse Point

From the lookout point we can see the vast canyon below and the river snaking its way through, there is also a long dirt road winding its way through the canyon. The guys are keen to get down there and check it out. A quick perusal of maps and GPS units and we are headed down a dirt road towards the canyon floor. The road is for the most part not too bad, except for one part descending down into the canyon. It’s a steep maybe 15-20% slope, consisting of soft sand and boulders. Definitely not the sort of thing I would have tackle on my own, I drop the bike on the way down. A passing Jeep stops by as we pick my bike up and re-affix the panniers, the driver says that was the worst of it by far which is reassuring. Further down the road a small hatchback goes past headed the other way, I doubt they would be getting much further, that road is definitely 4WD only.

Van owned by some itinerant and his dog

But it’s totally worth it, the scenery at the bottom of the canyon is outlandishly beautiful. The canyon walls tower thousands of feet above us and several hundred feet below us lies the snaking Colorado River.

Down in the canyon, and even further down to the river

We pass by the Cane Creek Potash mine. Potash is used in fertilizer and is basically a potassium containing salt. Large evaporation ponds are used to collect the potash. Cobalt blue dye is added to the water to aid in the absorption of sunlight and evaporation and gives it the striking blue colour.

Cane Creek Potash Mine evaporation ponds

The road leading back out of the canyon was a little rough in places, but nowhere near as bad as on the way in. After a long series of switchbacks climbing higher and higher out of the canyon we arrive just inside the border of the Canyonlands National Park.

Long road back up and out of the canyon

It’s getting late, we decide to head over to the small town of Green River and split a motel room, Danny’s flying back home to the East Coast the next day and wants a shower and a good rest before going back to work. There’s a great Mexican restaurant in the town, perfect way to wrap up the day’s ride.

Jon’s still got another couple of days to kill, so after saying goodbye to Danny we continue down the road towards Capitol Reef National Park. It’s probably a little less patronized than Utah’s other more well-known parks like Zion and Arches but still a pretty place nonetheless. There’s also free camping in nearby Dixie National Forest.

Jon and I entering Capitol Reef

It is at the entrance to Capitol Reef that I notice that my 12V DC power outlet isn’t working. Jon mentions that he noticed a puff of smoke coming from my bike earlier while overtaking a truck. I pull off the seat and immediately see why. The wires connecting the power outlet to the battery have burnt out and melted the plastic insulation and frying my USB plug in the process since I didn’t have a fuse in the circuit. I’m no electrician but I suspect the sudden hard acceleration when moving to overtake caused a surge in the current that the old wiring was no longer up to handling. The wiring, plug, and socket all end up in the bin, finding and fitting a new one shouldn’t be much of a drama.

Climbing and crawling down one of the canyon

We find a quiet and secluded spot a short distance up a 4WD trail. We set up camp and have dinner. We have the place to ourselves, for the most part, until a Subaru Forester shudders and scrapes its way up the trail and continues past our campsite and out of sight. Jon is keen to try some Vegemite. I spread some sparingly on a slice of bread with a liberal amount of avocado. He likes it, I’m impressed, he’ll do alright if he ever comes to Australia.

Camping in Dixie National Forest

We part ways the next morning, Jon is returning to Green River and then home to Salt Lake City while I’m continuing southwest to Bryce Canyon National Park and then up to Wendover for the weekend. It’s been an awesome couple of days riding and hanging out with Jon and Danny, hopefully we’ll get a chance to do it again sometime down the track.

It’s the start of the Memorial Day long weekend and the countryside is starting to get busy. Bryce Canyon is bustling with activity as I arrive. At the entrance I meet a few more bikers, one couple on a pair of well set-up BMW 1200GS’s we’d met the day before at Capitol Reef are here as well, they’re from Washington and give me their card for me to get in touch when I pass through. 

Next stop Bryce Canyon

“Helluva place to lose a cow” - Ebenezer Bryce, Mormon Pioneer, on what later was named after him

Bryce Canyon was actually formed by an uplift plateau getting eroded on one side by water, wind, and ice and is not actually a canyon at all

The distinctive feature of Bryce is the rock hoodoos, sedimentary layers of rocks eroding to form the distinctively shaped structures with the red, orange, and white colouring. Despite the name it is not actually a canyon at all, rather an eroded side of a large plateau, as a result the rim sits at a much higher elevation (~2500m) than Zion.

I don’t stay long in Bryce, it is getting more and more crowded, the wind is starting to pick up, inclement weather is on the way, and it is a long way to Wendover. I need to get a good headstart. Sure enough when I wake up the next morning the skies are overcast and it’s drizzling, and the wind is blowing at gale force.

Overnight my sleeping bag zipper broke, it’s broken before and I’d managed to fix it, not this time however. It’s also lost a lot of its down stuffing and is no longer as warm as it used to be. Time for a new bag, time for a visit to REI. Good timing too, Jon had mentioned there was a sale on over the weekend.

Those who’ve been to a REI store will know this, but it’s an amazing store for the outdoor enthusiast, certainly better than anything in Australia. They have the most open merchandise return policy I’ve ever heard of, basically 100% satisfaction for life or bring it back for a full refund. It’s no doubt open to a lot of abuse, I’ve heard stories of 10 year old worn out boots being returned and exchanged. Anyway, I find some decent sleeping bags on sale, I decide to invest a sizeable portion of my budget on a high quality one, it’s only going to be getting colder as I travel further. And I suppose I can always return it at the end of the trip…

The rest of the ride to Wendover is cold, wet, and very windy. I finally arrive at the RV park where Wendy has been keeping her camper. She’s away for the weekend but she’s left the key out for me, and her dog, Scout, as well. Scout is a big dog, but very good tempered and well behaved. I’ve mentioned before but I’m not normally a dog person, but I warm to Scout surprisingly easily, and he seems to warm to anyone who feeds him and takes him for walks. Probably not ideal traits in a guard dog but I reckon Wendy’s got that pretty well covered herself.

Wendy’s camper is huge. It’s not like the caravans that retired Aussies haul around Australia behind their trusty Ford Falcons. No, this thing requires a proper trailer hitch be firmly bolted through the tray and onto the chassis like a proper semi-trailer towing arrangement, and it’s about the same size as a shipping container.

I’m totally knackered after riding through all that cold, rain, and wind. Add a shower, laundry, some food, and taking Scout for a walk, and I’m passed out before it’s even dark outside.

Bonneville Salt Flats

The next day I go for a short ride to check out the nearby Bonneville Salt Flats International Speedway where Burt Munro (see movie World’s Fastest Indian) set his record breaking run on his 1920 Indian motorcycle. There’s not a lot to see there really, no buildings, no markings, apparently the BLM come out and grade the flats and mark out the competition area at the start of each summer.

Wendover is an interesting town, straddled on the Nevada/Utah border it’s technically two connected towns, Wendover UT and West Wendover NV. The Utah side consists of a few cheap motels, a grocery store, and a petrol station. The Nevada side has three sprawling casino/hotels, and a bunch of fast food outlets. Gambling is illegal in Mormon dominated Utah and I suppose enterprising Nevadans are well poised to literally cash in on the Utah punting public’s needs just two hours away from Salt Lake City. 

Wendy’s dog, Scout, will trade the camper for a steak

Monday is Memorial Day, I get up early, feed Scout, and hop on the bike and head for Miller Motorsports Park to go catch the US round of the World Superbike Championship. The last couple of days have been cold and windy but slowly improving, today looks to be continuing that trend, but it’s still bitterly cold on the early morning ride over. After a bit of muddling around looking for the entrance (I was expecting it to be a little better patronized and signposted) I finally arrive.

Harley Davidson XR1200 racer, part of a one-make support series

Unlike the Australian WSBK round in Phillip Island there’s no riding motorbikes around the spectator areas of the circuit, but for the benefit of the average exercise averse American, there is a free tram service that circulates around the perimeter of the circuit. I walk anyway. The competitor’s paddock area is open to all spectators which is nice. I’m always fascinated by the hive of activity that goes on in a racing paddock. I catch glimpses of several riders including Kawasaki’s Tom Sykes, Aprilia’s Max Biaggi, and Ducati’s Jakub Smrz all rushing to their pit garages to get ready for the morning warm-up session.

The National Guard is a supporter of US motorcycle racing, a UH-60 Blackhawk for display purposes

As is usually the case, the national motorbike racing series is also present as supporting events for WSBK’s main show. In this case it’s the AMA, American Motorcycling Association and their various racing classes. Then there are the various sponsor booths and other displays all making up the circus that is a motorsport racing event.

Team Jordan Suzuki, yes that Jordan

World Champion stuntrider Christian Pfeiffer putting on a display of BMW and Red Bull sponsored skills

I find myself a nice grassy spot close to the first turn to watch the racing from. I hang out with a few English spectators there to support the several UK riders competing in the championship. Sadly there are no Australians competing this year.

Tom Sykes led early on in Race 1 but couldn’t maintain the pace and Carlos Checa took the chequered flag

While the Miller track layout may not be quite as exciting as Phillip Island, the racing is still no less exciting. Spaniard and reigning champion Carlos Checa has enjoyed a lot of success at this track in past years and this year looks to be no different as he takes the lead after a few laps and then cruises to victory in the first race.

A double win looks likely as he later takes control of the second race early on, however a crash by Honda mounted Japanese rider Hiroshi Aoyama leaves fluid and debris on the track necessitating an hour long stoppage while the track is cleared and cleaned up. On the restart, Checa again hits the front and builds up a sizeable gap on the chasing pack of riders before crashing out of contention. A see-saw battle for the lead ensues between Irishman Jonathan Rea on a Honda and Italian Marco Melandri riding for BMW with Melandri narrowly getting to the chequered flag first from a valiant Rea.

Checa looked to have Race 2 in hand as well before a crash helped Marco Melandri take the win

Later that evening back at Wendy’s camper in Wendover, I have just fed Scout and am feeling pretty hungry myself. Wendy should be back soon but all of a sudden Scout is nowhere to be seen. I look around and eventually spot him hanging around a fancy RV whose occupants are trying to enjoy a few beers and a barbecue. Typical dog. I yell out to him to get back here and stop harrassing the other campers for a culinary handout. They wave back and beckon me over, it’s all good, turns out they’re actually Wendy’s work colleagues and are familiar with Scout and his foraging tactics. There’s plenty of food and drink leftover if I’m hungry. One of the guys, a gruff retired US Marine, got bored over the weekend and decided to cook.

“Want some bird?” he asks passing me a large tray with nine whole freshly roasted chickens, “some wings?” another tray loaded with marinated chicken wings, “pasta salad? veggies? Wendy tells me you’re quite the adventurer!”

This dude can seriously cook up a storm, the food is awesome, I thank him profusely for the food and saving me from the clutches of Burger King. Wendy arrives shortly afterwards from her weekend in Sequoia NP and joins in the feast. Retired Marine shows me around his luxurious RV. It’s phat, and with four slide-out compartments it’s fat too, two bathrooms and bigger than my single bedroom apartment back in Sydney. Uncle Sam’s tax dollars hard at work he remarks proudly.

Some weird 40 metre tall sculpture literally in the middle of nowhere, along the I-80 in the middle of the salt flats

Salt lake just outside of Grantsville, UT

I found a pretty sweet camping spot just outside of Oakhurst, 20 minutes ride from the south entrance on my way to Yosemite. So sweet that I return there the next afternoon in a double dip move. It’s about a kilometre up an unmarked winding dirt road off the main highway, at the top is a series of trails through the national forest that is favoured by local dirtbike and ATV riders.

The next day it’s off to San Francisco where my Uncle Bert and Auntie Marie are patiently awaiting my arrival and also where I’ll have my first shower in a week. They’re both retired, Uncle Bert used to be an engineer and has an impressive resume listing Lockheed Aerospace, Hewlett Packard, and Apple amongst his previous contracts. Nowadays he and Auntie Marie spend their time traveling, hanging out in their neat Sunnyvale home (that Auntie Marie keeps fastidiously clean), and driving around in their Volvo (Uncle Bert is a true Volvo driver). They’re also vegans, and Auntie Marie is a great cook and I certainly won’t be going hungry in this house. Every morning my breakfast plate is piled high with a large variety of fruit, and then there’s oatmeal, or pancakes, and/or Weetabix.

Uncle Bert has an itinerary planned out already. We check out a lot of the local Bay Area sights including the nearby Stanford University grounds, Apple HQ (Uncle Bert walked to work there for seven years), San Jose Technology Museum, and of course, Costco. I’ve never been there before, the one in Sydney opened after I left, the place is mind boggling.

Stanford University

We also take a drive out to a nearby Sanborn Skyline County Park where there are some Redwood trees, I don’t think these ones have reached full maturity though as they’re nowhere near as tall or wide as the Sequoias in… Sequoia. Still massive trees by normal standards however.

Back in the early days when California was still the Wild West frontier the Catholic Church built a series of missions from San Diego to San Francisco. One of them, in Santa Clara, was later taken over by the Jesuits and turned into a school, which is today known as Santa Clara University, of which 2 time NBA MVP and Phoenix Suns guard Steve Nash is a notable alumni. We take a stroll around some of the historic buildings around the campus.

Baby Redwoods

I also get taken to downtown SFO (Americans like abbreviating all their place names in capital letters, CA, SFO, AZ, PHX etc etc…) where I do the mandatory visit to the Golden Gate Bridge (mostly shrouded in fog as is normally the case), the zig-zaggy slalom-like Lombard Street and of course Chinatown. SFO’s Chinatown dates back 150 years and was the first city in the world to have a “Chinatown” district making it the oldest as well as one of the largest such districts. For Auntie Marie’s sake we also go check out Union Square, the main shopping area in SFO.

The Golden Gate Bridge emerges from the fog

Lombard Street

By sheer coincidence I discover an old friend from when I was a kid living in Hong Kong happens to be visiting SFO as well and staying nearby. Jeriel and I played a lot of ball back in the day. We arrange to meet up and do some time on Alcatraz Island as a way to reminisce about the good old days.

Off to do time, Alcatraz

San Francisco

We drive with Jeriel’s sister Mercy and her husband Sam. It’s a nice sunny day on the Bay, but the ever present stiff breeze keeps things cold. They have audio tours of the main cell block narrated by former inmates and wardens, it’s really well done and I thoroughly enjoy it. Outside of the cell block is a surprisingly nice view of the city and the bridges.

Alcatraz started off as a military base protecting the Bay, then progressed into a military jail, before becoming a federal penitentiary for nearly 30 years before finally closing down nearly 50 years ago. For a short time in the late 60’s it was occupied by Native American tribespeople protesting land rights, they offered to buy the island from the US Government for $24 in beads and other native handicrafts. It’s now a bird sanctuary as well as a tourist attraction.

Alcatraz Lighthouse

My quarters at Uncle Bert’s place…

I’m excited, Jeriel is also but hides it well 

Afterwards we go out for Mexican food, it was a toss up between Indian or Mexican, I figured I can always score decent Indian food in Sydney, authentic Mexican isn’t as easy to come by over there. We finish off the day with a trip to the movies, The Avengers is on. Marvel Studies has done a good job with their movie adaptations to date, and Avengers doesn’t disappoint. Well choreographed or CG’d action sequences and well timed witty humour in the dialogue as well. But like the rest of the series, there’s little real substance or underlying themes in the plot and I pretty much forget the story within a day or two.

A week goes by pretty quickly and then it’s time to go. Auntie Marie loads me up with enough food to last me til I get to Canada, I also get a new rear tyre and drive chain for the bike. Final goodbyes are said and I’m back on the road heading back towards Yosemite. Last time I was there the lady at the entrance mentioned that the Tioga Pass, the road that links the park from East to West, would be reopening in a few days for the summer. That was a week ago. I’d organized to meet up with Roman on the other side of Yosemite for a quick catchup.

Back to Yosemite, now at Tioga Pass

Still a fair bit of snow on the pass

The road is magnificent, as are the views, it is quite a different perspective compared to what I’d seen the week before. There is still a fair bit of snow around too and it’s chilly in a few places. On the other side of the pass, on the other side of the Sierra Nevada however it is a lot warmer when I finally meet up with Roman and his girlfriend Nicole in the town of Lee Vining. It’s good to catch up again. Last time we met was leaving San Cristobal in Mexico several weeks earlier, although it feels like a lifetime ago.

While stopping for fuel and supplies we happen to meet another rider, Dave on a big BMW 1100 tourer, we do the usual meet and greet routine and swap a few travel stories, he seems like a good bloke. We all end up sharing a campsite a few kms down the road next to Grant Lake, Dave very generously pays for the site and firewood and sets up a nice campfire. He’s on a four day weekend ride and is heading back home to southern California via Yosemite in the morning.

Campfire, with Roman, Nicole, and Dave

The next morning Dave is up early and packed up before the rest of us, he’s got a long way to go, we say goodbye and swap email and blog addresses. Eventually the rest of us are packed up and ready to go. We decide to check out the nearby June Lake, Silver Lake, and the saltwater Mono Lake together before Roman and Nicole split off and head up Tioga for Yosemite. It’s good to see them, they won’t be going all the way to Alaska however so I’m not sure when, if ever, we will meet on the road again.

Grant Lake

Highway 395 following Roman’s beast

Mono Lake, large saltwater lake that is a critical part of the food chain for several bird species who live on the shrimp that breed there

I continue a little further north to the town of Bodie, now a state protected ghost town of a former goldmine. Much of the town was left as is when the inhabitants slowly left. As I walk around and look through windows into shops where goods and merchandise have been left on the shelves collecting dust since the 1960’s. There are broken down remants of cars, farming and mining implements laying around the deserted streets. An eerie feeling pervades the place.

Bodie, former gold mining town, now ghost town

Jedediah! We need some Benzene pumped into the automobile!

Bodie General Store

The ride through southern Nevada heading towards Utah is long, straight, and very very windy. It’s not Tierra Del Fuego windy, but enough to be annoying and uncomfortable. This is Area 51 land, i.e. there’s really not much to see, but you have a look around just in case there is something that could be important. Most the terrain is desert and used as a testing zone by the USAF.

It’s already late in the afternoon when I stop in Tonopah, another former mining town. There are no decent camping options, so I splurge out on a motel room. It’s comfortable, there are towels, and the NBA Playoffs are on TV, oh and there’s wifi, that’s important too. Tonopah lays claim to being the home of several famous warplanes due to its proximity to the testing zone, the F-117 Stealth Fighter and the P-51 Mustang being two prominent examples that began their careers there.

Tonopah Fire Station

The highway that circumnavigates Area 51 has been named “The Extraterrestrial Highway” and the small but hardy little towns that are lightly sprinkled along the way do their utmost to cash in on the alien genre. I spend nearly $5 in bumper stickers for the bike, it’s not like I’m going to revisit this area anytime soon, I hope.

Rachel is a very small and quiet town that markets itself well for its size and attractiveness

Evidence that alien lifeforms do exist and have visited us…

There’s a power outage at a service station where I stop to pick up fuel, the pumps are out of action as a consequence, I wait inside and have a snack while a dust storm blows outside. The outage appears to have affected a large area so there’s no point trying to go to the next town for fuel. Power is restored within 30 minutes, and I’m refueled, stocked up on food and water, and on my way again.

Finally I cross state lines and am in Utah. The terrain is more interesting now. I stop at Baker’s Dam Recreation Area to have a look around. It seems pleasant enough, and there’s water nearby so I set up camp for the night. Later on a young couple pull up in the site next to mine. Chris and Candice are from Seattle and are moving to nearby St George to start a new job “taking little kids out into the wilderness and teaching them to live out of their backpacks”. They previously worked on cruise ships and are well traveled. They invite me over to their camp for a game of “Bananagram”, a fun word game similar to Scrabble. We play and chat til late that night.

Utah… and all that jazz

Snow Canyon, UT

The next morning, Chris and Candice say goodbye and head off to begin their new life while I continue marching upwards to Zion. As one of the most popular parks in the country, the National Parks Service made the decision several years ago to restrict traffic within narrow Zion Canyon to free shuttle buses only. All other cars must park outside. Shuttles run every few minutes so it’s still quite convenient.

Zion National Park

Perhaps it’s the strong Mormon presence, but there is a strong biblical influence in the naming of many of the landmarks, Court of the Patriarchs (consisting of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob), Angel’s Landing, Temple of this and that, The Pulpit, to name a few.

Court of the Patriarchs, Zion NP

There are a few nice day hike options in Zion, unfortunately in my riding pants I’m overdressed for long hikes especially in the current heat. I do however, take off my boots and socks and wade up the river in the northern part of the canyon where it narrows significantly. Many other hikers are wearing wetsuit like clothing, with sandals or waterproof boots specifically for this purpose.

Wading up the Virgin River

Zion Canyon

Nice overlooking view from the eastern side

There’s a nice twisty road leading away from the park, up the canyon, through a 1.6km tunnel, and out towards Bryce Canyon and the Grand Canyon. I decide to head for the Grand Canyon, the North Rim this time, which is open by now. Once again I find a deserted free camp spot not far from the National Park gates in the Kaibab National Forest.

Grand Canyon, North Rim, Bright Angel Point

I wanted to take a hike down into the canyon itself, and get right down to the Colorado River. It would be an overnight trip, but permits are required and have already been booked out unfortunately. I settle for exploring the a few good vantage points to the east of the park and going for a few short walks around there. At one viewing point I meet a German couple, Frank and Petra, on an older BMW 1100GS, they started in Peru and are headed for Canada before returning home. They also took The Stahratte but were a couple months earlier than I and sailed via Cuba. We exchanged stories for awhile.

North Rim views are spectacular

I could continue going on…

Later that afternoon I return to Kaibab National Forest and explore one of the fire trails only to discover it takes me back out onto the next main road I needed to take. Scenic route or shortcut? Either way it was pleasant. I set up camp nearby. 

Mars

I’m heading east towards Navajo Nation native reservation land and Monument Valley. There’s some interesting scenery along the way. Frank and Petra had been there earlier and said the the trail running through Monument Valley itself was quite rough and not well suited for heavy motorbikes. Another account I’d read on the internet by another rider had said the same thing, too soft, unable to ride comfortably, best to park the bike and take a jeep tour.

Colorado River, near Lees Ferry

As it’s within Navajo territory, Monument Valley isn’t administered by the National Parks Service and I cannot use my parks pass to enter, it is only $5 entry though. The visitor’s centre overlooking the valley has some great viewpoints. I’m almost happy enough with that.

Looking down at the cars driving down the rough dirt road into Monument Valley I think to myself that the trail doesn’t look too bad, it seems fairly hard packed, and there are a lot of regular sedan type town cars going down there, so my bike should be able to give it a shot. 

I decide to go in. The trail is pretty rough, and there is patchy soft sand around, but generally easy enough to find hard lines to pass through on. I pass two cyclists heading back the other way, “Yeah” the man says, “this first section is probably the worst of it, once you get right down onto the valley floor it gets a lot better, there are a few soft sections but you shouldn’t have much trouble.”

Encouraged, I continue on. It isn’t easy, the wind is gusting hard, and there’s a lot of dust being blown up and around. There are a few sections where there is no hard line to ride on just as the cyclist said. I lower the undercarriage (feet on the ground) and gingerly walk the bike across, clutching first gear. These sections aren’t very long anyway.  

Getting down and dusty, Monument Valley UT

The sandy and windy conditions were the hardest part of riding into the valley

The views were totally worth the effort though! I’m hot and sweaty halfway through it. I have a chat with a Navajo guy selling jewellery at one of the lookout points, he says in winter the whole place is covered in snow, and after it rains the place is unpassable as well. I picked a good time to visit.

I make it out of the valley without incident and head towards Kayenta to find somewhere to stay, I don’t particularly want to camp as it’s getting dustier and windier and there isn’t a lot of protection in the area. Unfortunately all the motels in Kayenta are either booked out or out of my price range. I decide to continue on with the following day’s plan and go to Four Corners, about 130kms away and see if I can find something there.

Four Corners is so named as that is where four states all share a common intersecting boundary, the only place in the country where this occurs. I arrive in the evening, they’re about to close up and the lady at the gate lets me in without payment. Also all the handicraft vendors that would normally line the place have left so it’s nice and quiet. I get a few photos in before my camera battery packs it in, I’ll need to find somewhere to recharge it very soon.

Four Corners: Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, and Utah

But where to stay? I continue down the road into Colorado where just at the welcome sign I notice an open gate leading into a ranch just off the main road, there’s a sign by the gate offering campsites. I ride on in, there’s more rough dirt road but it’s a cakewalk after my earlier efforts. I meet Brian, the Navajo rancher, it’s $10 to camp but he doesn’t have change for my solitary $20 bill so he just lets it slide and says go camp whereever.

I spotted a river nearby on my way in and head towards that. At the riverside is a car and four Navajo youths hanging out. They are pretty friendly and help me set up camp. Dro, Kevin, Melissa, and Terri, and two small kids, one belonging to Melissa and the other to Terri, I didn’t get the names of them. We all hang out for a bit, we go for a cruise around their ‘hood in the car to show me around and meet a few more locals. It’s pretty late by the time they drop me back at camp.

I sleep in the next morning, then spend a couple hours slowly packing up and then cleaning the chain and air filter on the bike after yesterdays abundance of dust and sand. I need to find somewhere to charge my camera battery, and also my laptop, and a shower might be good too, it’s been four days since the motel in Tonopah and this river is brown and doesn’t look as inviting as I initially thought. A couple of hours up the road in the town of Monticello I find a campground with hot showers, power, water, and wifi for $16 a night. Time to recharge a bit before Canyonlands and Arches National Parks.

So I’m in Arizona, I almost don’t quite know what to do with myself, it feels like I’ve just made some quantum leap into the future and all of a sudden am surrounded by oversized white English speakers riding oversized cars and Harley Davidsons on wide, straight, and neatly laid out highways, and there are fast food franchises everywhere. And this is only Douglas, a backwater frontier town in the boonies.

But first things first, I should get a map, actually no - I should get breakfast, and where better than that omnipresent symbol of US nutrition, McDonalds. They also have free wi-fi (the other reason for going there) for the ultimate trashy food and information combination.

Welcome to the McDonald’s States of America

There’s supposed to be a pretty neat air and space museum near Tucson, and it’s next to Davis Monthan Air Force Base, where surplus military aircraft go to get left in the desert “for storage purposes”. The museum runs tours there. Tucson is a couple hours up the road and it’s on the way to Phoenix so I decide to go have a bit of a gander.

It soon becomes painfully clear that my poor bike wasn’t cut out for US Interstate highway system, everyone is overtaking me, semi-trailers, oversized RV’s, and even beat-up old Camrys. Lead weighted footwear is standard in this country and while I may have been on the top of the food chain on Mexico’s windy mountain passes, on these long straightaways, the bottom end biased 660cc single cylinder engine won’t comfortably sit on much more than 100kph while everyone else flys by doing at least 120. Oh yeah, and everyone’s backward here and still uses imperial measurements so by the time I leave I’ll be an expert at mentally multiplying by 1.6 and dividing by 2.2 and I’m not even gonna bother with Farenheit to Celcius.

I finally arrive at Pima Air and Space Museum in Tucson, overhead A-10 Thunderbolt II tank killers are clawing their way into the skies from Davis Monthan AFB literally across the road. I go in and purchase my ticket, the next tour to the “boneyard” isn’t for another couple of hours so I wander around the museum exhibits for a bit. I am immediately blown away with what is on display in the main hangar. (Forgive me if you’re not an aircraft nut, there will be lots of seemingly nonsensical alphanumerics to follow so feel free to glaze over if they don’t mean anything to you) There is a Vietnam era F-4E Phantom, F-14A Tomcat, T-33 Shooting Star, F-86 Sabre, SR-71 Blackbird, UH-1 Huey and Huey Cobra, and a whole lot more, and that’s just the first hangar, there are four more similar hangars and dozens more aircraft parked outside.

A7 Corsair at the entrance to Pima Air and Space Museum

Herd of retired C-5A Galaxy strategic transport aircraft sent to pasture

Time flies by and it’s boneyard tour time, the main reason for being here. We all get herded onto a coach for the short drive over to the base, needless to say the tour is conducted from the confines of the coach, they must frown on civvies wandering around the ordnance. While photo taking is permitted we are also asked to refrain from taking photos of the base’s entrance. The guide informs us that the good folk who are responsible for said “boneyard” don’t like it being referred to as the “boneyard”. Officially it’s 309th AMARG, for 309th Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Group. Surplus aircraft are sent here for long term storage and parts cataloging, the location was chosen because of the low humidity and low rainfall decreasing rust and corrosion, also the hard dry ground made it easy to move aircraft around without having to pave all the movement areas. It isn’t only planes, there are a lot of missiles and aircraft engines too, a fair proportion of the equipment in storage there is from the Cold War era. There is a heavily modified B747 with a laser cannon, yes thats “laser”, and it was for shooting down Russian ICBMs before they landed on somewhere like say, New York.

F-16 sitting pretty at AMARG, transparent and other non-metallic surfaces are covered in a heat resistant coating for protection from the hot Arizona sun

Fastest plane ever built, SR-71 Blackbird

F-14A Tomcat

The tour is awesome, the rest of the museum is awesome, I end up hanging around until closing time. There is some parkland not far out of town and I head over there in search of a campsite, people in this country love a roadtrip and there are campgrounds, RV parks, state and national parks with camping facilities everywhere. Camping out should be a lot easier from now on.

Up with the sun again the next morning, plan is to get to Phoenix. I used to work for a company with headquarters there so I’m hoping to catch up with some former coworkers. Also the bike needs valve clearances and a few other things checked, I wasn’t able to explain that in Spanish to the Mexican mechanics.

Phoenix is a big place, and after a bit of blind wandering around I stumble on a bike shop that refers me to another bike shop that refers me to another bike shop in Tempe. The place is called Cycle Werks and is owned and run by French (the guy’s name, not the nationality), the chief mechanic. I guess it’s not an everyday occurence for some grotty Asian looking guy with a broad Australian accent on an unusual bike that isn’t imported into the country to rock up on your front doorstep looking to get some work done, but French, Jeff, and Sean (the other two guys working there) take it well and are keen to help out a traveler. I’ll need to leave the bike with them overnight but there’re some cheap motels not far from the shop and French offers to drive me over. We talk shop for a bit, French rides a Yamaha FZ-1 and my bike also being a Yamaha automatically stands me in good stead. They’re great guys, all very interested in hearing about my trip, and the bike, and Australia, and they even let me use their computer to check my email. We later hop in French’s ute (they refer to utes as ‘trucks’ here, I guess trucks are ‘big trucks’?) and he drops me off at a local motel. At $40 a night it’s cheap by US standards, and certainly cheap by Aussie standards, and it’s certainly good value, modern, clean, and comfortable, but even still, given the number of free camping options I think I’ll be camping more here if I can’t phone-a-friend. Next door to the motel is an Indian buffet restaurant. I love this country already.

At Cycle Werks, ensuring the bike keeps on “werking”

A former coworker, Amy offers me a couch to surf at her place about 30 minutes away. I decide to head over later the next afternoon after the lads are done working on the bike.

I rock back up at Cycle Werks around lunchtime the next day, the lads are about done. They order in pizza for lunch and we talk shop some more, French has great local knowledge of good roads and things to go see on a bike and gives me some good tips.

French, my bike, and Jeff

There’s a chain of outdoor and camping supply stores here called REI, Vinny, Alex, and Katie all reckoned it was an awesome place and thoroughly recommended it. I need some stuff so decide to go check out the local store in Phoenix before heading over to Amy’s. My headlamp broke down while on the Lost City trek in Colombia, and I also want to replace some bent tent pegs. The place is pretty good, I am able to get everything I’m after as well as being tempted into getting a lot of other stuff I didn’t know I needed.

I spend the weekend hanging out with Amy and her housemates Sierra, Jodi, and Sierra’s boyfriend Alex. They decide that amongst other things my American experience would be incomplete without going to a baseball game. The Arizona Diamondbacks are playing the Atlanta Braves. I don’t know a lot about baseball but the others are very accomodating with my noobie tourist questions. This particular game is not the most exciting example of a baseball game I’m led to understand, but the overall atmosphere is exciting and I have to admit I enjoyed it even though the Dbacks lose a close one.

Baseball, even their stats have stats

A season ticket holder sitting in front of us was kind enough to take this photo of us, and then rambled on and on about upcoming events and other baseball stuff I didn’t understand… sportsfans…

Phoenix is hot, around 40 degrees Celcius hot. So what do people do for fun in such a hot climate? They go climb mountains of course, Mount Camelback is located almost in the middle of Phoenix and offers a nice view of the city in all directions. I start at 8 am and it’s already starting to get brutally hot. It’s about a forty-five minute hike to the top, good invigorating stuff but I’m glad I didn’t leave it til any later than that. And then it’s back down the mountain and off to Subway for brekky.

Mt Camelback

The next day is American redneck day. I’m getting picked up by another former coworker, Lisa and her partner Caleb, for a day of shooting guns, eating Mexican food, and hooning about the desert in a golf buggy on steroids. Lisa and Caleb are the only couple I know who have his and hers AR-15 semiautomatic assault rifles. They take me out to a shooting range where I try out Caleb’s .45 Glock, .22 peashooter, AK-47, and both AR-15s. The Glock and AK are both a handful to fire and have a strong kick, the AR-15 is not as bad but still requires a steady hand, the .22 is by far the easiest to handle. All are great fun though.

Yes that’s an AK, no, my name is NOT ‘Charlie’

After shooting up for awhile we go visit their friend Dan, who lives further out in the countryside by the desert. We borrow his ATV-golf-buggy-type thing and go carve up the desert.

Redneckin’ good time with Lisa and Caleb, and little Vince is hiding in the back there too

I am the source of some confusion for Lisa’s son Vince apparently, for whom I must look Latino/Hispanic like he is, yet clearly do not sound like one. It’s late by the time they drop me off that night, I can’t thank them enough for bringing me out that day.

The next day is ANZAC Day, for the non Aussie or Kiwi readers, this is our nearest equivalent of Memorial Day. Anyway, as an act of patriotism while abroad I have Vegemite on toast for breakfast. I make a mental note to share some with Amy and the girls later, they seem keen to learn more about Australia.

It’s also the last game of the regular season for the Phoenix Suns, being a basketball and Suns fan for years I have to go see them play despite them not having had the best season and just missing out on the playoffs. They’re playing the San Antonio Spurs tonight and unfortunately neither team has much vested in the outcome of this particular game. The Spurs opt to rest three of their star players and the head coach, the Suns play their second and third string players for much of the game. An interesting outcome from all of this though is that an Aussie player, Patrick Mills, gets one of his first starts in the NBA for the Spurs, and leads all scorers and his team to a close win at the end of the game.

Suns Vs Spurs, US Airways Center

I go out to meet another former coworker the next day for morning tea, Rachel was part of my team when we worked together and she is a mother of seven, I don’t know how she manages it all but she does and for that I have the utmost respect. It’s raining, this area doesn’t get a lot of rain period, so this in itself is unusual, but I’ve been pretty fortunate with weather throughout the trip so I’m not complaining about a little rain on the short ride over to meet Rachel.

With Rachel, the supermum

All of these people, Amy, Lisa, and Rachel, I had worked with closely before but never actually met in person until now as we were in different locations. All contact had been via phone or other electronic means so it’s good to finally meet them face to face.

Later Amy and Jodi are reluctantly convinced into trying some Vegemite. Rather than make them try it straight, I prepare it the way Aussies usually consume it, with butter on toast.

BEFORE: Amy and Jodi, all smiles just prior to trying Vegemite toast 

AFTER: ehhh…. not so much…

I’m going to compile a top 10 list of things about Australia that scare Americans and see where Vegemite ranks.

It’s the next afternoon, and I decide to try one of French’s ride route suggestions. Apparently there’s a nice road out to Roosevelt Dam so I decide to go check it out. French wasn’t kidding, it’s an awesome bit of road, and clearly popular with motorbikes. A big, black SUV nearly takes me out while overtaking into a blind corner, luckily I ninja my way out of danger and continue on without incident.

How’s that serenity?

There was about 35kms of dirt road involved

Finally make it to Roosevelt Dam

That evening Amy, myself, Sierra, and Alex go to a local watering hole. I’m introduced to shuffleboard, best way to describe it would be a strange cross between lawn bowls and pool. Beginners luck does not strike me this time unfortunately and Amy and I go down fighting to Sierra and Alex.

Saturday night, another former coworker, Ben, an expat Aussie, is having his birthday party in Scottsdale, several other expat Aussies I used to work with are there also, it’s good to catch up with them as I haven’t seen most of them in a long time. It’s a fairly big night, I end up crashing the night at Lia and Kamil’s place, I used to play touch football with them back when they lived and worked in Sydney.

Lia suggests going out for yum cha the next morning, I have been craving yum cha for the best part of a year so I’m totally down for this. The others laugh when my eyes light up. Back in Sydney it’s a fortnightly ritual for me and my grandmother.

I’ve been here over a week now, re-adjusting to speaking English and living in a western first world society, and generally being American I suppose, shooting guns, watching baseball and that sort of stuff. Everyone I’ve met here has been fantastic and I’d like to come back again sometime. I say thank you and goodbye to Amy and the girls and saddle up for the Grand Canyon and more riveting Interstate riding.

Sights along the way, Montezuma Castle, village built into the side of a cliff by the Sinagua tribe

Sedona’s amazing landscape

It’s a fairly leisurely ride, I stop and check out a few sights along the way as well as a short stop in Flagstaff to buy some groceries, I’ll be camping the next few days so will need to carry some food.

Grand Canyon NP

A lot of the places I wish to visit are National Parks or other federally protected lands that incur an entry fee. So earlier at Montezuma Castle I purchased an annual pass for $80 that will get me into any National Park, Forest, Recreation Area, or Monument. It’ll also save me from fishing around for change, always a big hassle while on the bike, just ask any motorway toll collector in Mexico.

The Grand Canyon doesn’t disappoint, even though it’s a Monday the place is crawling with tourists and for good reason, the place is visually stunning. The road from the south leading up to it offers no hints of what lies ahead so the scene really jumps out when I arrive.

The craggy outlines of the Grand Canyon

I enquire about access from the North Rim of the Canyon. Unfortunately it’s still closed for another couple of weeks, I decide to continue towards California then come back and re-visit the Canyon from the northern side later in the month. Despite the tourist hordes, by simply venturing a little further along the rim away from the visitor’s centre the crowds disperse rapidly and it’s much easier to get an unobstructed view.

It’s getting late, time to find someplace to camp for the night, I’d seen some National Forest land a few kms down the road on the way into the park that looked promising. Along the way I ride past a service station and who should I see filling up there but Patrick and Jana! I quickly pull in and say hello and we catch up for a few minutes, they are heading to the Grand Canyon also and will then head further east. We’re still both ultimately heading towards Alaska so will very likely run into each other again.

Around most National Parks is some land designated National Forest, and what they term “free dispersed camping” is permitted as long as it is at least a quarter mile (400m) from any main highway, a fact I intend to take full advantage of. The Kaibab National Forest is easily accessible from the Grand Canyon, and save for a couple of RVs, is practically deserted as I ride up one of the dirt access roads looking for a place to camp, which doesn’t take long.

Can’t understand why anyone would pay to camp someplace else when I can camp here for free

It gets cold overnight though, and I wake up to a layer of frost covering the outside layer of the tent. The first half hour or so of riding is quite uncomfortable in the early morning chill, but it quickly warms up and I start feeling more human. Destination for today is the Hoover Dam in Nevada, and then close in on Death Valley just over the border in California. The ride is mind-numbing, I struggle to stay awake and eventually stop to have something to eat and drink.

Nevada, welcoming place, casinos want you to bring your own silver though

Hoover Dam is smaller than I imagined it would be, it’s been featured in a few movies and always seemed a bit wider than it really is, although it is quite a tall I suppose. I also stop to have a bit of a look at Lake Mead as well.

Hoover Dam

Lake Mead

Again, the place is crawling with tourists, Las Vegas is just down the road and this place is a short side trip between craps tables. There is no shortage of Harley Davidson mounted riders, there is a group of about 35 of them, most likely a HOG posse associated with a local dealership or something. All riding really slowly up the narrow winding road while wolf whistling and yeehawing at each other. I am embarrassed just to be close by. As soon as the opportunity arises I overtake and leave them behind quickly.

I have no real interest in seeing Vegas, my objective for traveling this country lies more in experiencing its natural beauty. But my route takes me through some of the outskirts, I see mainly cheap motels, hotels, and casino/hotel combinations. I eventually find myself on another long straight road running through the desert. Eventually I find myself in California.

Welcome to the hotel California…

More straightlining through the desert ensues, it’s getting late in the afternoon, I start looking for someplace to settle in for the night. There doesn’t look to be a whole lot going on until I spot a lone RV parked a few hundred metres off the highway in what looks to be an old abandoned RV park. The driveway is still there, as well as two neat rows of concrete slabs for parking RV’s on, and some remains of some plumbing fixtures still protruding from the ground here and there. But that’s about it, all the buildings have been taken away. Seems as good a place as any. I set up my tent well away from the RV, the new pegs I bought from REI work great in the hard packed and rocky ground.

View overlooking my campsite from the top of a nearby hill

Desert Sunset

It’s not as cold at night out here in the desert. And there isn’t the issue of condensation on the tent in the morning because it’s so dry. Up with the sun again and quickly packed up and headed into Death Valley National Park.

If the Death Star were still around, would it have a National Park too?

I see a sign pointing to a place called “Dante’s View” a few miles away and wander over to check it out. It ends up being far up a mountain where there is a mindblowing view of the valley below.

View of Death Valley over 3000m below 

From there I head back down the hill and down into the valley, almost directly below Dante’s View where there is a place called Badwater Basin and at 86m below sea level it is the lowest point on the American continent. I happen to meet an Aussie couple who are also traveling the States, it’s liberating to be able to freely chat away in native Aussie dialect and not get blank stares or people saying “what?”.

With Nick, random Aussie traveler I met at Badwater Basin

Death Valley is famous for a spot known as Racetrack where large seemingly immovable rocks sport drag trails through the sand yet no one has seen them move. Anyway, I decide I want to see it and ride an hour to the other side of the park to the start of the access road that leads there. Unfortunately when I arrive the last part of the road there is 42kms of deep gravel and there’s only one way in and out, meaning an 84km round trip. The gravel is difficult to negotiate and progress is way too slow to make the trip practical. I soon decide to turn back, the road is marked as 4WD only so I assume conditions will only worsen. This is disappointing but there is a pretty cool volcanic crater nearby that is worth having a look at.

Ubehebe Crater, Death Valley, CA

Death Valley was also once upon a time the scene of a great deal of borax mining. Teams of twenty mules would haul wagons laden with borax out of the valley and over to the nearest rail link. Borax is used in a number of industrial processes. There are still remains of the borax mining industry in and around Death Valley today. Not far outside the park is a ghost town called Ballarat that was formerly a mining resupply town and was named after its Australian namesake in the state of Victoria.

Ballarat, CA

I camp that night in some windy but secluded gulley, I think I saw a Naval base nearby on the map as there are what appear to be F/A-18s flying around overhead.

Creamy pasta and tuna for dinner

The route I take to get to Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks goes past Lake Isabella. It’s an incredibly nice spot, and had I known this yesterday I would’ve ridden a little further and camped here rather than that gulley. It’s still very windy by the lake though. Even though it is only 9am I seriously consider quitting for the day and spending the rest of the day hanging out here.

The scenic Lake Isabella, should’ve camped here instead of that windy gulley…

I elect to ride on though, and the road is beautiful! I’m soon back in the zone and not regretting not stopping back at Lake Isabella. It’s around midday by the time I present my annual pass at the entrance to Sequoia National Park.

Sequoia!

The place is stunningly beautiful. Huge contrast to the harsh, dry, desert terrain of Death Valley the day before. This is lush, green, mountains and rivers. Higher up there is the bald granite Moro Rock rising majestically from the mountains. And then there are the Sequoia trees. These gargantuan freaks of nature dwarf the tall pine and fir trees that are ubiquitous in this alpine terrain.

Moro Rock in the high ground

There are steps cut out into Moro Rock allowing people to climb up to the top. From below you can’t make out the people watching from the top of the rock at all. The summit is at cloud level restricting the visibility a bit, but the view is still breathtaking.

The Park’s namesake, the Sequoia trees grow only in a small area of the Sierra Nevada ranges in central California. Their trunks can easily exceed 25m in diameter and grow to 200m in height, their lifespan is estimated at around 3000 years. They are related to the California Coastal Redwood trees that grow on the coast and which tend to be slightly taller but narrower.

The General Sherman tree, world’s biggest tree by volume of wood

Their bark is surprisingly soft and dry, and they don’t produce much sap, making them extraordinarily fire resistant. Many of the trees I see bear large scars from previous fire damage, yet they still continue to thrive. Their only downfall is their shallow root system which does make them more susceptible to toppling in strong winds and seems to be the most common way in which these giants die off, rather than due to fire or disease.

Bears can be a problem in these parts, not so much the aggressive Grizzlies fortunately, but even still the Black Bears need to be respected, all garbage bins in the park are sturdy metal lockers with special bear-paw proof latches. That night when I camp I make sure I cook and eat at least 50m away from the tent, and lock and seal any garbage and food scraps away in my panniers.

The next day I pass through some small town holding a yard sale in the local library carpark, I stop by and buy myself a book to read. That night at camp I finish the book in one hit. I had hoped to make it last a week at least. I have now banned myself from buying any more books for the foreseeable future.

Yosemite National Park is one of the world’s most well known national parks, and for good reason. After seeing being blown away repeatedly all week by spectacular scenery, Yosemite still managed to top all of that with its looming granite formations and waterfalls.

Yosemite NP, living up to the hype

The view from Glacier Point over the Yosemite Valley is amazing. Anyone wondering why Americans tend to come across as nationalistically self-centred and arrogant need only visit the places I’ve mentioned in this blog entry to understand why. When these guys put their hands over their chest and talk about “America the beautiful”, they’re not just being blindly patriotic, this country can back up those words. 

Half Dome can be seen on the right

May is still considered early in the year and a lot of trails and roads in Yosemite, Sequoia, and Kings Canyon are still closed for the winter, there is in fact still a fair amount of snow still around in the higher reaches of the parks, and the nights are still very chilly. A few roads and campsites are starting to open up as I arrive though, and the Tioga Pass that runs across Yosemite linking eastern and western sides of the Sierra Nevada is due to open in the next few days.

Bridalveil Falls

El Capitan

I will be heading back eastwards through Nevada, Utah, and Colorado later on, and a revisit to Yosemite is definitely on the cards.

A couple of pleasant enough days were spent hanging out in Oaxaca and then it was high time to hit the road again. Next on the list, Teotihuacan, a significant pre-Colombian archaeological site, probably one of the biggest if not the biggest city-state of the time and famous for its two gigantic pyramids, the Pyramid of the Sun and the Pyramid of the Moon. The name was given to it by the Aztecs who regarded the site as sacred long after it was abandoned by its original founders. Who they were exactly is still debated, but there are theories supporting the Toltec, Totonac, Mixtec, or Zapotec cultures.

The ride over from Oaxaca to Teotihuacan was for the most part boring and expensive thanks to the epic road tolls again. The first couple of hours were good though, early morning with minimal traffic on a toll bypass road through the mountains. Definitely got in the zone then.

Early morning brisk departure from Oaxaca, the rest of the ride sucked

Teotihuacan is located around 50km to the northeast of Mexico City centre and my route took me through some of its outlying suburbs. All I have to say on that is there is good reason to avoid big cities where possible when traveling overland by motorbike.

Fast forward to the next morning and it was another early start. Time to hit up the ruins before the heat and oversized (mainly French or American speaking) tour  groups start making their respective beachheads. As mentioned before, it is a very large site, and there’s a fair amount of walking to be done if one wants to see everything.

The Pyramid of the Sun cut an imposing figure as I entered through Gate 2. I immediately felt the urge to climb straight up to the top as soon as I walked in. Climb it I did, the view was amazing, and I stopped to eat an apple and empanada I’d specially packed and brought along for the occasion.

Pyramid of the Sun

From there it was a long walk along what was called “The Avenue of the Dead” to the main plaza where the Pyramid of the Moon and a series of other buildings stood. These too were also very impressive.

Looking down the Avenue of the Dead towards the Pyramid of the Moon

Although not quite as tall as the Pyramid of the Sun, and the steps leading up to the very summit have been cordoned off preventing people from walking up to the top, the view from halfway up the Pyramid of the Moon was, I thought, in some ways better than from the Pyramid of the Sun as you could see down the entire length of the Avenue of the Dead and across the entire city.

View from the Pyramid of the Moon at one of the supporting pyramids in the main plaza with the Pyramid of the Sun in the background

Thomas’ favourite and most recommended spot in Mexico had been Guanajuato, a former silver and gold mining town during the Spanish Colonial era. Again the ride there was for the most part boring and laden with more tolls, until I found an alternative back road route for the final leg that was much more enjoyable, I resolved to do try and do this for the remainder of my stay in Mexico where possible.

Guanajuato was built in a very deep and narrow valley, as a result most of the towns buildings were built into the sides of the hills with only narrow staircases and pathways leading to them. There was originally a river running down the middle of the valley and with only one narrow road entering and another leaving the city led to congestion problems, not to mention flooding problems when it rained. The flooding was resolved by building some dams and large drainage systems to divert the floodwaters. And the traffic congestion was eased by building a series or tunnels in and around the city.

Teatro Juarez - as the name suggests

Due to the layout of the city, finding a hotel or hostel with parking was an issue, something I hadn’t anticipated. Finally with the help of a city guide on a scooter (the town now relies heavily on tourism so municipally funded guides are everywhere) we found a reasonable hotel about 15 minutes walk from the centre of town in a quiet area and I could park on the pavement just out the front of the hotel. It wasn’t ideal, and it wasn’t cheap either, but being a very touristy town, nothing was very cheap, but the owner was nice and let me use their washing machine for free, and the room was spotlessly clean, and cleaned again on my second day there.

University building, built by the Jesuits, architecturally a bit smaller than but still puts Sydney Uni to shame

The town itself was attractive, pleasant, and a bustling hive of activity. It actually reminded me a lot of a smaller, more compacted version of Valparaiso, Chile but riddled with lots of tunnels. The scenery with lots of colourful buildings blanketing the side of the hills with nary a sign of a road between them was very Valpo-like. I spent the rest of the afternoon until the early evening, and then most of the next day just wandering around the city, admiring the scenery, architecture, and sampling the food. There was a lot going on, a live brass band was playing in a pavilion in one of the plazas while nearby a comic went through a street performance routine in front of the theatre while a crowd sat watching from the theatre steps.

Reservoir created by a dam built to curb flooding problems in Guanajuato

El Pipila monument, commemorating a local miner who fought with the insurgents against the Spanish in the War of Independence

Guanajuato as viewed from El Pipila, the walk up the hill to the mirador was brutal in the heat

One of the many tunnels that riddle the town

There was some kind of festival on for medieval dress-up enthusiasts (I’m sure they call themselves something else more romantic) in town that weekend as there were people everywhere in period costumes waving swords, shields, battleaxes and other paraphernalia taking to the streets. I eventually found there main exhibition area where they put on a mock tournament combat display a la Mortal Kombat. Two guys would face off against each other, an array of weaponry lay nearby and a squire would bring over what each combatant chose to do battle with. Then it was a fight to the “death”. They did a good and dramatic job of feigning the death part, the squire was even required to drag away the body while the victor kicked and spat at it while doing his victory dance.

I’ll try and upload some video of I took of it later, one of my cousins loves this sort of thing.

Medieval festival that was on over the weekend, lots of folk dressed in period costumes and engaging in mock swordplay

Once again, time to get a move on. It wasn’t that I disliked Mexico, far from it, I loved Mexico, it had it all, great natural beauty, deep pre and post colonial history, friendly locals, and delicious food. But I was keen to maximise the amount of time available in the US and Canada, both being such vast countries with a lot to see in a limited amount of suitable weather for riding in. So I had to pick my spots and move on without dawdling in one place too often, and I’d already done that in San Cristobal.

It was a long march northwest towards the border. Fortunately this time there weren’t as many toll roads. I think I spent less than M$30 that day, as opposed to M$250 or so on the way to Guanajuato. The road was long, straight, and I was most definitely not getting in a zone. I stopped at a picnic area just outside of Durango, about 600kms away, for the night and set up camp.

It was a little chilly as I packed up and got back underway the next morning, the fresh high altitude air keeping things brisk as I added an extra layer. It warmed up during the course of the day though. Along the way I had to stop for a herd of bison crossing the road, I hadn’t expected to see them this far south, but there you go. I suspect I’ll be seeing more of them later.

Bison sighting!

It was about three in the afternoon when I rolled into the town of Hidalgo del Parral, the clock on my dashboard said three at least, but it felt earlier. I decided to stop for the day, I’d covered a reasonable distance and done a reasonable day’s ride, and after checking into a hotel found out that it was actually only just after two in the afternoon! Somewhere along the way I’d crossed timezones without realizing. Anyway, the extra hour gave me more time to plan my next move which would be to take in the Mexico’s famous Copper Canyon (or Barranca del Cobre) not far from here. I also went for a ride around town and found an awesome taco stand.

Good example of true Mexican tacos in Mexico, great cheap and quick meal

I picked out a backroad leading out west of Parral to a small town called Guachochi then through the Parque Natural Barranca del Cobre area and north to the town of Creel, the main tourist spot for visitors to Copper Canyon. From there to Basaseachi Falls and then back on the main highway. I discussed this plan with the hotel staff, they suggested another route that skipped most of my plan in favour of the main highway with a small detour into Creel, saying it was safer. I considered this for awhile and after a brief online discussion via Facebook with Brian, another motorbike overlander who’d been through the area before I decided to continue with my original plan.

The start of some great views and awesome riding, heading into Guachochi

I’m glad I did, the next two days were two of the best days riding of the trip so far. It was twisty mountain roads, great views, and near non-existent other traffic. I stopped briefly in Guachochi for fuel and a couple of burritos.

Spot the little blue dot? Yep - that’s the bike

This is what it’s all about

It was late in the afternoon when I arrived at the falls, being the dry season I half expected not to see any water flowing at all. Fortunately there was some water, not a lot, but it was enough to tick the “seen the Cascada Basaseachi” box.

Basaseachi Falls, a little dry, but still falling 246m for second highest in Mexico

Being a national park I was supposed to fork out a M$57 entry fee, but the gate office was closed and no one collecting money, so freebie. Campsites were also available, M$150 per vehicle, but again no one supervising or collecting any money, another freebie! It was a really nice spot by a trickling river and the place was deserted. That night was cold though, the next morning condensation had frozen onto the inside of the tent fly. Never had that happen before, although with Canada and Alaska on the horizon I imagine it won’t be the last.

Mountain ranges in the northern Mexican state of Sonora

I’d picked Agua Prieta - Douglas as my border connection on the eastern corners of Sonora and Arizona. There was a scenic route through some back roads which would save me time and avoid tolls getting to Agua Prieta. Win-win another good day out on the road getting in the zone. It was mid-afternoon when I started getting close to the border, enough time to cross the border, but better to rest up and spend one more night in Mexico and use up the last of my pesos on burritos, cheap fuel, and cheap accomodation, then tackle one of the final border crossings fresh in the morning.

When I arrived at the border the next day, there was a 4m high steel fence separating Agua Prieta from Douglas, actually “wall” would be a more appropriate term for the barricade. I guess the Mexicans really aren’t too keen on Americans coming over uninvited. There was a bit of a queue of vehicles waiting to cross and when I got to the checkpoint I realized that it was US Customs and Border Protection operated, there was no need to pass through Mexican immigration and customs before leaving Mexico and I hadn’t yet cancelled my temporary import permit and been re-credited with my deposit.

The US CBP staff had never seen a New Zealand passport before, raising a few eyebrows, more eyebrow raising action took place when they actually opened the passport and flicked through the now mostly full pages of stamps from various countries for various reasons. It was fine though, there was no real hassle and after issuing me my visa waiver they let me go back into Mexico to cancel the TVIP, get my money back, then come straight back into the USA again.

Yes, the theme song from the movie “Team America” has been running through my head a lot lately

I will miss Latin America. I learned a lot from traveling through all those countries, and not just the speaking Spanish bit either, but I hope I can retain most of it and be able to use it again for awhile to come.

A lot of people, both travelers and non-travelers, have said that for me, the hardest part of my trip is now over, and things will be much easier from here, things will be safer now. I refuse to subscribe to that theory, I think it would be unwise to think that just because I’m now in a proper English-speaking first world country that there will be fewer difficulties and challenges to overcome and things will be much safer. USA and Canada will offer a different kind of challenge for me, and it will be one I’m looking forward to.

Maps are important in my line of work, having a GPS is fine but for route planning there’s nothing better than having a physical map you can lay out in front of you. Finding decent road maps has been difficult, Chile, Argentina, and Uruguay all had decent national road maps published by the largest chain of service stations and on sale at most outlets. But everywhere else was hard to find, the last country where I was able to get a road map was Peru, and that one lacked a lot of detail.

So I was overjoyed when I found out that there was a good road atlas readily available for Mexico, the Guia Roji (Red Guide) has a cartoon illustration of a Mexican dressed up as the Guia Roji and leading a blindfolded gringo behind him. I bought my copy from an Oxxo convenience store just outside of San Cristobal de las Casas.

Best purchas ev0r! (note: this blog is not sponsored by Guia Roji)

Iglesia de Santa Guadalupe

San Cristobal was a lot cooler in climate being over 2000m amsl. Alex and Katie, the English cyclists I’d met in Tonina, had recommended a camping ground a couple of kilometres outside of the main centre of town. I found it after a little bit of digging, but it was a very pleasant, quiet, and well equipped site. There were a couple of large camper trucks already there, both with German plates.

Rudi and Rita, a lovely retired couple, had been traveling for the past two years in their behemoth Volvo truck that wouldn’t have looked out of place at the Dakar Rally. They had been slowly traversing the US, Canada, and now Mexico.

Rita and Rudi, blog: http://www.menrad-international.com/

Thomas and Sabine, a vibrant young couple from Bavaria, were doing the Bohemian thing but had driven their 35 year old reconditioned ex-army Mercedes truck across Europe, Central Asia, South-East Asia, and just recently the US. Now they were tackling Mexico and the rest of Latin America.

Sabine and Thomas, blog: http://www.abseitsreisen.de

Arriving soon after me was JP and Hannie, also very nice, and from the Netherlands, and their truck, a hulking Ford F550 with an elaborate motorhome setup at the back. They too were traveling south after traveling extensively throughout the US and Canada.

Hannie and JP, blog: http://www.jphannieontour.nl

Taking their homes with them in true nomadic fashion, these guys were at the other end of the overland travel spectrum from people like myself and Alex and Katie and the two French lads on their pushbikes. Rita and Rudi invited me, Thomas, and Sabine over for dinner the seond evening I was there. Aside from being a very pleasant and delicious meal, it was also very civilized, sitting at a dinner table under the foldout awning by their truck.

It was Semana Santa, the week leading up to Easter. It’s probably the biggest festival celebrated in Mexico and lasts the whole week leading up to Easter Sunday. San Cristobal is famous for its Semana Santa celebrations and follows it up the following week with the Spring Festival. There was something happening all the time in town with live music all day in various plazas and parks around the place.

Live music at the main plaza

Easter is a big deal and a weeklong celebration here in Mexico

The other Germans arrived a couple of days later, we caught up on Easter Saturday, going for a walk around town and eating quesadillas and drinking horchata for lunch.

Looking down from Iglesia Santa Guadalupe towards the main plaza

Don’t think… Don’t speak… So everyone is happy.

Fresh produce markets, San Cristobal de las Casas

Ze Germans, how they really get about the Americas

Meanwhile, the truckdriving Germans and Dutch back at camp had been taking daily Spanish lessons, three hours each morning. I initially considered joining in but decided given that I was weeks away from leaving Latin America, now was probably a little late to start taking lessons, would’ve been a better idea nine months ago perhaps. Regardless, they invited me to join them in their Easter Sunday celebrations. That night we painted some eggs for tomorrow’s egg hunt.

Painting Easter eggs with Thomas and JP

Feaster!

My contribution to the Easter Sunday feast was bread and dessert. I hopped on the bike and rode down to one of the local panaderias and found some yummy looking brownies, and and a decadent strawberry cheesecake. Getting the cake back to camp on the bike was a mission though, and I nearly dropped it on more than one occasion. It was too big to fit in the top case, so I had it precariously balanced on my lap, it wasn’t too mangled by the time I got back fortunately.

The egg hunt began soon after Spanish class finished. Sabine found the egg I’d painted up to look like the Aussie flag, I found one of the psychedelic ones painted by JP. The feast was huge, everyone contributed something, and most of the group retired to hammocks or other preferred siesta locations.

I ended up staying about a week in San Cristobal, definitely longer than I’d initially planned, but the site was nice and so was the company. It’s important to make the most of the pleasant places when you come across them.

Next stop, Oaxaca (wa-HA-ka). It was about 600kms from San Cristobal, a fair hike. After saying goodbye to others I got underway nice and early. About 30kms down the road I could see ahead that traffic ahead had stopped. There was a man waving a red flag warning motorists to slow down and stop due to some hazard ahead. A couple of large motorbikes appeared, heading in the oncoming direction, I quickly recognized them as Fred and Roman, and Jana and Patrick weren’t far behind. They too had planned on leaving that day, but were going to visit a canyon nearby first. Roman waved his hand as he passed by indicating a turnaround was necessary.

I pulled up by the flag waving man and asked what happened. Apparently there was a big accident up ahead. Jana and Patrick pulled up next to me, she said there were four fatalities and it looked like it would take awhile to clear, they were going to take an alternative route to the next town. I turned and followed.

Mexico has some very good motorways linking the country together. The only downside is that they charge a very hefty toll to use them and longer trips do add up and more than offset the government regulated low petrol prices we were enjoying there. I spent nearly M$180 (~US/AU$14) just in tolls for the ride to Oaxaca - more than I spent in petrol.

Sometimes when I ride I get into a zone and I just want to keep going. Similar to a runner’s high perhaps. No stopping to take photos of semi-interesting scenery, or grab a snack or a drink. Windy mountain roads with minimal traffic to interrupt the pace allow me to get into a steady rhythm as I glide through the bends for hours. The bike becomes an extension of myself, responding to my thoughts, and we negotiate each corner as naturally as flicking between TV channels on a remote control. The last 150km was like that and I was in such a zone for the last couple of hours before arriving in Oaxaca.

Oaxaca, another pleasant colonial era towni

I was pretty hungry after riding all day and not eating much, I’d been full for much of the day thanks to the feast the day before. So after checking into a hostel I went for a walk around Oaxaca Centro sampling various pizza slices, hot dogs, tacos, and other things from street vendors and small stalls. A childrens choir was performing in one of the plazas. Nearby another crowd had gathered to watch a pair of street performing clowns doing a combination that was more slapstick with a bit of juggling thrown in.

Oaxaca is a similar altitude to San Cristobal, a bit over 2000m amsl, so the temperature is quite mild and quite comfortable at night. The days can still get quite hot though.

Bike parked by the hostel entrance

The next morning I headed out early on the bike to Monte Alban, an archaeological site on top of a mountain just outside of Oaxaca. It was a pre-Colombian city founded by the Zapotecs around 500BC and remained an important site inhabited for about 1000 years.

Another ball court, although apparently this one wasn’t linked to human sacrifice like the one at Copan

It was nice early in the morning, not too hot, not too crowded

This monument worked somewhat like a sun-dial

I found out from Patrick later on that the “accident” we encountered on the road earlier may not have been an accident at all. A local news service reported it as what appeared to be an attempted robbery of a vehicle carrying money to one of the local indigenous villages and took place about an hour and a half before we arrived.

So the Belizeans made me cough up the equivalent of US$19 to leave Belize, something about departure tax and conservation protection tax. They were clearly disappointed with me for leaving. The no-man’s land between borders was for some reason just lined with casinos, then it was over a bridge, across a river and into the welcoming arms of Aduanas y Immigracion de Mexico. They wanted money too. M$294 (~US/AU$24) immigration tax, M$571 (~US/AU$45) customs fee, and the real kicker: US$400 security deposit (supposedly refunded on exiting the country, you get a reciept and everything) to prevent me from selling the bike and not paying import duty while in Mexico (I’ll just tack on $400 to my asking price now). 

Wow! North America!

Fortunately this was the last border crossing for at least a few weeks after a quick succession of crossings over the past two months. I can’t wait to meet US Customs and Border Protection though…

I was headed north, further into the Yucatan Peninsula although not as far as Cancun which I was keen to avoid. Instead I’d decided to check out Tulum, another beach town about an hour south that had some Mayan ruins right by the beach and was supposed to be nice. After the windy, narrow, and interesting roads in Belize and Guatemala, the long, straight, and wide roads linking the Yucatan Peninsula were sleep inducing. I mentally kicked myself for losing my MP3 player in Guatemala.

Met a Czech couple overlanding it in their LandCruiser while at a lunch stop

I stopped for lunch at a roadside cafe and ordered barbecue chicken with rice, beans, pasta, salad, and tortilla. While eating a well equipped Toyota LandCruiser with “The World Adventure” decaled on its sides pulled up. Aboard was a Czech couple who were driving around the world in their Landcruiser, I invited them to join my table, they’d been down from Europe through Africa then shipped across from Capetown to Buenos Aires and were on their way north.

Tulum isn’t quite the tourist trap that Cancun or Playa del Carmen are, but I’d say it’s getting close. The stereotypical long stretches of white sandy beaches and clear blue waters are backed by hotel after hotel making public access to the beaches (which are public land anyway) a nuisance.

Playa Tulum, just sticking out over the hill on the left are the Mayan ruins

I stayed at a hostel called The Weary Traveler on the main street, they let me park the bike around the back. A dorm bed was M$150 a night with breakfast, and with a 5% discount if you booked in advance for two nights, which I did. Not too shabby a deal, but wait - there’s more! Free bus service to the beach and ruins 8kms away, and free rice, pasta, and lentils for cooking in the communal kitchen. That was dinner taken care of. The place was a clear hit with backpackers far and wide.

The next morning I decided to hit up the ruins and the beach. The bus dropped me off not far from the entrance to the ruins. The place was packed, dozens of tour groups were attacking the place in groups of thirty, Americans, French, Japanese, Germans, Argentinians, you name it, they were all there. It was a little much for a lowly solo motorbiker grinding his way north from Tierra del Fuego. The ruins were okay, everything was roped off to prevent people from groping and climbing all over them which was both good and bad. Bad because it prevented me from groping and climbing all over the ruins. Good because at least I could get photos of the ruins without other people groping and climbing all over them in the shot. One interesting feature of the ruins was an ancient lighthouse specially designed to guide boats through the reefs and sandbanks.

It was hot, and it didn’t take me long to get over the ruins and head off to the beach, the ruins actually had beach access which I suppose one could have waded across to from the main beach and entered the ruins without paying. The beach by the ruins were too crowded while the main beach was still half deserted.

Mayan ruins at Tulum

Back on the beach I went for a swim, the water was perfect. Further down the beach I recognized a young guy who’d been on the bus earlier that morning, he seemed to be carrying all of his luggage, and was dressed more appropriately for perhaps an art exhibition rather than the beach. He was from Lithuania and he’d arrived about a week ago in Cancun, hoping to hitchhike and work his way across Central America. So far he hadn’t had much luck and was getting down on himself, lamenting how different Mexico was from Europe and budget travel strategies that worked well for him in the past weren’t working well here and now he was almost out of money and didn’t have enough for a return flight home. He complained about how difficult it was to hitchhike here, and that people weren’t as friendly as he’d been expecting. I’m not sure what he was expecting, but I did point out that he’d only been in the country a week, Cancun and Tulum were hardly indicative of Mexico as a whole, he’d probably need to work on his Spanish (which I imagine wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for the average multilingual European that he appeared to be), and to keep at it and not give up. I hope I don’t have to make too many more motivational speeches. I later saw him back at The Weary Traveler hoping to score some work there in return for free board.

Roman and the German’s triumphant arrival in Tulum

The Germans arrived in town later that afternoon, sans Fred, who’d gone to the US Embassy in Belize to see about getting an extended visa. Roman booked in at the hostel while Jana and Patrick stayed at a hotel next door. We all went out to dinner that night with JJ, a Malaysian Chinese doctor from the UK who’d been traveling for the past 13 months.

I left early the next morning, setting the GPS to take me to Chichen Itza, another famous Mayan archaeological site. The route it picked didn’t seem to quite match the obvious route I’d envisioned from looking at maps of the area, and the actual location seemed to be slightly different too. I ended up taking another long detour thanks to the GPS, always double check the GPS calculated route!

Chichen Itza’s main attraction, the pyramid

I’d heard varying opinions on Chichen Itza, some described it as Mexico’s biggest attraction, one of the modern seven wonders of the world. Others said it was overrated, and a total tourist trap and there were many other ruins around equally as impressive but attracting much less attention. It was on my way though so I figured I may as well check it out and form my own opinions.

Two tickets worth a total of about US/AU$15 are needed to be purchased from completely separate ticket offices before admission is granted, why I’m not sure but I suppose there are two governing bodies administering to the site and they haven’t learned to cooperate and pool resources yet. This sort of thing is pretty typical for most of Central America and Mexico, but I guess creating additional red tape creates more jobs and helps artificially reduce unemployment levels which is a constant problem.

The ruins themselves were pretty spectacular though, there was an impressive ball court, much bigger than the one in Copan. The pyramid was the centrepiece though and was situated in the middle of the site, the surrounding area clear of buildings and other structures, adding to to its imposing bulk.

The ball court

Serpent’s head, or maybe crocodile’s head, not sure, even possibly a jaguar with a bit of imagination

The place was a tourist trap though, just like Tulum most of the ruins were roped off. Numbering nearly as many as the tourist hordes were the hawkers vending various handicrafts and other useless trinkets. Touting their wares aggressively offering special prices to all and sundry. Strangely enough there were none selling refreshments, drinks, or snacks, it was a sweltering afternoon and anyone wandering around with an esky full of ice and drinks for sale would have been mobbed.

Forest of Pillars, or some similarly themed name…

The Yucatan and surrounding parts of Central America are famous for cenotes. Sinkholes that emerge from collapsing limestone bedrock revealing natural groundwater pools. The local Mayan word for them is dzonot. So later while passing through a town names Yokdzonot I stopped at a cenote. There was a adventure park, restaurant, and campground complex built around it offering abseiling, canoeing, swimming, and ziplining. I camped there for the night.

Swimming in Cenote Yokdzonot

After a quick stop in the town of Campeche for an oil change and some basic maintenance I continued onwards southwest along the peninsula towards Palenque, in the Chiapas region of Mexico where there was another famous archaeological site. It was quite a ways away and I stopped for the night at a cheap roadside hotel in Escarcega. It had been a scorchingly hot day and I was looking forward to a cold shower. The room was hot, the tiled floors were hot, the walls were hot, the sheets were hot. And for once, the shower was hot too. On the plus side however, there was a Burger King across the road, and it was airconditioned, and there was free wi-fi.

Because the rooms were so hot I hung around outside on the common balcony where it was cooler, the guy next door was Carlos, and he was from Playa del Carmen hitchhiking his way to Palenque too where he was hoping to sell two gallos (roosters) he had with him in canvas sacks.

One of Carlos’ roosters, he reckoned he could get around M$1500 (~US/AU$115) for each one

Another early start the next day. I’d been waking up with the sun pretty consistently, regardless of when I went to sleep, and once awake I generally struggled to get back to sleep and inevitably would decide to get up and make the most of the morning before it got too hot. It was only a couple hours ride to Palenque. The town itself was more or less built around supporting the tourist hordes that flocked to visit the ruins and a few other sights nearby and not particularly attractive. Despite the numerous hotels and guesthouses there was really only one budget hostel that I could find. It was quite a swanky hostel, very new, well decorated, attractive reception and common area, and firm mattresses in the dorms. It did however lack a few basics, mosquito nets, and reliable internet access. The staff wouldn’t let me park the bike in the hostel grounds either despite there being obvious space for it.

It rained that night, I could hear the thunder for a long time. I awoke to the sound of the other guests in the dorm packing up and getting ready the next morning, checking the time on my laptop, 7:39am, I’d slept in, normally I’m awake at around 6:30. I’d tentatively planned on heading to the ruins early and then perhaps going to see a waterfall nearby. Quickly getting out of bed, getting dressed, I was on the bike and on the way into the ruins 20 minutes later. The clock on the dashboard read just after 7am. I double checked with the guard at the gate, perhaps I’d read my laptop’s time wrong.

At the main entrance a kid directed me to a parking spot and asked if I’d like my bike washed for M$50 (~$4), sure, why not? The bike hadn’t been washed since El Salvador and needed a bit of a clean.

Palenque’s ruins were also very impressive. Easily as impressive as Tikal and Copan. As I was early there weren’t that many other tourists around and the hawkers were still setting up there displays and too busy to get their sales pitches on.

Palenque

One could walk around, in, and on the ruins in Palenque

Standing atop the highest point among the ruins

The kid did a pretty good job on the bike, too bad his work wouldn’t last, I only really wash the bike to prevent a buildup of dirt and grime in important places, as opposed to trying to keep the bike free of dirt and grime which would be impractical.

I was tossing up whether to stay another night in Palenque when I returned to the hostel later that morning, checking the clock on the wall I realized that Daylight Savings time must have kicked in as it was an hour later than I thought. I decided that the hostel wasn’t worth staying another night in and bailed just before the official checkout time of midday corrected for DLS. I wanted some lunch and unfortunately the great (and cheap) barbecue chicken place I’d been to yesterday wasn’t open, it was a Sunday, so it was Burger King, at least they had reliable wi-fi.

20kms from Palenque is Misol Ha, a 35m waterfall. Again there were two separate fees required to enter. I had read that there were camping spots there and had planned on camping there the night, but there weren’t really any, and they wanted M$100 to camp anyway, so I soon scratched that idea. The falls were pretty though.

Misol Ha

There was another set of cascades further down the road called Agua Azul, I decided to try and see if there was any camping there. The heavens opened up as I got close and I was pretty much drenched by the time I parked. My initial reaction to the place wasn’t favourable, it was packed with tourists and local visitors, numerous cafes, restaurants, and souvenir shops, lined the walking path all along the cascades. It didn’t help that it was a Sunday so every Mexican and his perro were there too. The cascades themselves were nice though.

Agua Azul, where the agua is indeed very azul

My impression of the place changed however when I discovered that there were campsites nearby. Already there were a lovely retired couple from Canada, Kevin and Myrna, who were migrating south for the winter, and also two French guys, Johann and Yves, cycling from Mexico City to Buenos Aires. There was apparently a M$30 camping fee but it was never collected.

Johann and Yves didn’t speak much English, and had only been traveling for around three weeks but despite this had managed to pick up a reasonable amount of Spanish which we conversed in mostly, with a little English and the odd French word I happened to remember from high school thrown in. They were good guys though so I’ll plug their blog:

http://thedreamytramps.uniterre.com

Fortunately Kevin and Myrna spoke great English and they even gave me breakfast the next day, yoghurt, muesli, and fresh fruit!

It was a long uphill road from the campsite back to the main road so I offered to help tow Johann and Yves back up it. Unfortunately this proved more difficult than it was really worth and we didn’t get very far before the lads thanked me for the offer but decided to tackle the climb on their own.

Bicycle travelers, tough gig, hats off to these guys

Kevin and Myrna had recommended Tonina, another Mayan archaeological site not too far away, spectacular views and far less crowded than the other major sites, plus there was a nice campsite nearby. Sounded like a good plan to me so off I went.

Tonina was nice, and what was even better was when I went to the ticket office, the guy said “Normally it’s 45 pesos entry, but today, it’s free!”

Sweet!

Ancient Tonina was a contemporary city state to Palenque and had a long history of waging war against its nearby neighbour and was one of the most powerful cities in the Mayan region.

Tonina

Decent view from the very top too, and see the hordes of other tourists? Me neither!

The campsite was about 50 metres from the main entrance, the owner came out to greet me as I rode in, camping was M$50 per night and there were showers and toilets as well as a small restaurant. He showed me to a nice, cool area at the top of his property with a good view of the valley.

Sunset at Tonina camp

Not long after I arrived another couple of cyclists showed up, Alex and Katie were from the UK and had spent the past nine months cycling all over the US and Mexico and were on their way to Guatemala. We spent the rest of the day chilling out and trading travel stories, they have a blog too, and it’s in English!

http://alex.mj2p.co.uk/

It’s actually quite a good one with plenty of photos and a good writing style.

The campsite was really nice, there was only one small drawback, little red ants that crawled everywhere and bit you. I made the mistake of cooking a little too close to the tent and had them swarming the area, I had to move the tent.

The next day it was off to a town in the mountains, San Cristobal de las Casas. Easter weekend was approaching and it’s a big thing here in Mexico, and San Cristobal is famous for its Easter festivities. Plus locals say it’s also a good time to stay off the roads if you can that week due to the increased instances in drunk driving.

Bienvenidos a Belize!

Belize is one of the smallest countries in Central America, both in terms of landmass and population size. Only slightly larger in terms of area than El Salvador, but with a population of less than 400,000 people, it has the lowest population density in Central America. And unlike the rest of its Central American neighbours it is a former British colony and as such, English is official language, although Spanish and English Creole are also spoken.

Mopan River, Western Belize

While most of the population can and do speak Spanish the general preference seems to be English and for the most part everyone converses in the Belizean broken-English Creole, a mixture of English, Spanish, with small contributions from Garifuna, Hindi, and even Chinese words. It’s a little bit similar (in concept) to “Singlish” (Singapore English), English with a very very strong regional influence.

It felt a little strange to be speaking English by default again. Every second shop on the street is a supermarket owned and run by Chinese, and every first shop is a Chinese restaurant. In fact it seems like the majority of Belizean small businesses are Chinese owned. You could even watch Hong Kong TV channels on the standard cable TV subscription. Speaking to one hotel own though, originally from Taiwan, said there isn’t actually that large a population of Chinese living in Belize by percentage, but they are very visible.

A couple of Canadian backpackers I’d met in Tikal had recommended an eco-lodge called The Trek Stop, around three miles from the border (distances are referred to in miles in Belize, another reference to British colonial heritage).

“We don’t like bikers here…” the man said seriously  as I was parking the bike.

“Just kidding!” and he broke into a grin.

Tino and his family owned and managed The Trek Stop, an Eco-hotel, campground, nature reserve, and frisbee golf course built on a 22 acre property by the Mopan River in the village of San Jose Succotz. He showed me a nice spot to pitch my tent for B$10 (US$5) a night.

Later that afternoon while making some lunch I met a couple of Canadian girls staying in one of the cabins who invited me to go tubing with them down the river, they’d met a local guy who had some inner tubes they could borrow. Amilar also did some pretty neat stone carvings and showed us some of his work when we went to pick up the tubes.

We spent the afternoon escaping from the heat, cruising down the river and swimming. Amilar and I tried paddling back up the river against the current, it was pretty hard going, and took us awhile to get back close to where we’d started. He mentioned there were a lot of caves nearby that were interesting to explore although you needed to go with a qualified guide.

I asked Tino about this later, one of his family members ran a tour company that did daily tours through several caves in the area. I signed up for a tour to Crystal Cave, described as a more of a challenge to explore than the other cave tours, only a handful of guides in the entire country were qualified to lead tours here so it was a much less frequented cave than some of the more popular options.

They picked us up at 7am the very next day for the hour or so drive to the national park entrance from where it was a forty minute walk to the cave entrance. There were about nine of us in the group.

St Herman’s Blue Hole National Park

The trail was hot and humid, and thick with mosquitoes. Rudy, one of the guides, broke off a chunk of a termites nest and lit it. The smoke and fumes apparently are very good for warding away mosquitoes. He also described how the caves in the area were once used by Mayan shamans for religious rituals and even human sacrifice. Human sacrifice often gets viewed by modern Western society as a cruel, savage, and backward practice. But, Rudy warned, do not look down on Mayan culture for that reason, because modern society is just as adept at killing each other and sacrificing their young to fight for them in times of war. Back then, only the Mayan ruling elite class were permitted to be warriors and go to war, common people did not fight, nowadays it’s just the opposite.

Crystal Cave aka Mountain Cow Cave

We climbed down into the cave entrance with the aid of a rope. The entrance was a large cavern where we stopped to have lunch, there were no mosquitoes once inside the cave. Lunch was provided as part of the cost of the tour, cold burritos, food has definitely improved since Chile.

Descending into the dark depths of Crystal Cave

We crawled, climbed, scrambled, and shimmied our way through the caves for hours. The guides, Rudy and Miguel, were very careful to make sure everyone treaded carefully so as not to slip on the damp and very slippery rocks, or step on some ceramic remains left behind by the Mayans. We saw some spectacular formations.The reason it was called crystal caves was due to the quartz embedded in the rock formations that reflected the light like a crystal ball.

After about three and a half hours Rudy gave us the option of either continuing further to another cavern, but we would move faster and it would be more challenging terrain, or returning to the surface and going for a swim in a nearby waterhole. Half of us opted to return and the other half (including me) continued on.

Cavernous interior

Human remains from a blood sacrifice ritual

We continued on for another couple of hours, taking in some more caverns and amazing formations. True to his word, Rudy took us a lot faster and through some more difficult routes. My rock climbing experience helped a bit. We finally emerged from the damp and muddy depths covered in dirt, sweat, and by the time we got back to the van, mosquito bites. We went for a quick swim in the waterhole, as much to rinse out our dirty clothes as cooling off.

Mayan clay pottery remains

Back at Trek Stop I got to chatting with a couple from Alaska. Dave and Chantrelle worked on halibut fishing boats when they were traipsing around Central America. They had plenty of useful information on Alaska, we decided to cook dinner together the following night.

The next day I went into San Ignacio, the nearest “big” town where there was a market day happening, supposedly the biggest one in the country. Given the country is pretty small, the market was by international standards not very big. But I bought some fruit and vegetables for dinner.

Blue Morpho butterflies in Trek Stop’s butterfly sanctuary

Across the river and up the hill from Trek Stop there was a site of an old Mayan town called Xunantunich. While not as big or as spread out as say, Tikal, the main temple, referred to as El Castillo, was quite spectacular, and you could climb up to the roof of it and get a good view of the whole area.

Crossing the Mopan River by hand-crank ferry

Xunantunich (Stone Woman) Mayan ruins - El Castillo

Dinner that night was rice, beans, and boiled vegetables, which doesn’t sound as nice as it actually was. Dave, Chantrelle, and I spent the evening exchanging travel stories. I was able to get a few good travel tips for Alaska and the rest of the US.

The next day I was headed north towards the Mexican border, Tino suggested I take the old highway north and stop at the Mayan ruins of Altun Ha on the way there. This old highway had been replaced by a new highway that ran up further west, and as a result this one was no longer maintained. It wasn’t too bad, a little narrow and there were a few potholes here and there.

Along the way I spotted a rather ramshackle looking house, in front of it stood two men talking, the taller man appeared to have some impressive dreadlocks. As I passed them on the bike I noticed that they weren’t actually dreadlocks at all, the man was bald and on his head sat a coati (Central American equivalent of a raccoon). I had to stop and investigate further.

The man saw me stop and called out for me to come over and have a look. He introduced himself as Gilbert Usher, a self taught wildlife expert. He had tamed Tabitha - the coati - himself, as well as many aardvarks (he showed me a bunch of photos), and also snakes. There were several cages nearby with different breeds of snakes inside. He asked me where I was from, and both guys were very interested when I briefly told them my story.

Gilbert explained how he had survived three separate snake bite incidents by Fer-de-Lance snakes, one of the most venomous snakes in the region, one bite to the head had left him in ICU for awhile. He showed me newspaper clippings of the reports of his hospitilization and survival. The Belizean government had refused to issue him with a wildlife permit for some reason, and he was also being dogged by some other legal problems, and some kids had vandalized his shack while he was away. Nowadays he eaked out a living taking handouts from passing tourists who would stop to take photos with his pets. He went on to say that there was a possibility he would have to serve some jail time over an upcoming legal case and he was scared for Tabitha and the snakes. It had suddenly become a very emotional outpouring from years of hard work with little reward, there was a lot of anger and frustration in his voice and he visibly shook and he spat his words out. Finally, with tears in his eyes, he said something about sensing something about me being a caring person, I wasn’t quite sure, but we shook hands firmly and I gave him some spare change I had in my pocket. He asked me to send him some of the photos I’d taken and climbed (literally as his stairs had been destroyed) up to the upstairs floor of his house for a piece of paper to write down his postal address. While he was gone, the other guy, who hadn’t said much the whole time, confirmed everything he had said, saying Gilbert had tried so hard for so long and now was on the verge of losing everything. It was quite sad.

Gilbert Usher, snake and wildlife whisperer and Tabitha, his pet coati

With some of Gilbert’s friends…

The ruins of Altun Ha were close by, it too was once a small Mayan city and one of the more famous ruins sites in Belize. The main temple was a bit of an icon too and used as the branding logo for one of the locally brewed beers.

Altun Ha Mayan ruins

One of Belize’s iconic symbols, also used in the logo of locally brewed Belikin Beer

The road leading north from Altun Ha deteriorated a fair bit. There were long stretches of just dusty gravel. I stopped for the night in Orange Walk and checked into a hotel owned by some Taiwanese immigrants. There wasn’t a great deal to see or do in Orange Walk, but I did find curry chicken and rice at the Chinese restaurant across the road. I can’t remember the last time I ate decent curry.

I had just left the border control, I had mapped out a route to get to Lago Izabal towards the north of the country on Google Maps. My GPS however was telling me that route wasn’t available and I needed to take a different, slightly longer route. Less than a kilometre down the road the GPS recalculated the route and came started directing me on a path close to what I’d seen on Google previously. However, back in the real world there was no turnoff where the GPS and Google Maps claimed there would be one. Around 800m past the supposed turnoff I passed a turnoff that could have been the one I was supposed to take, U-turning I came back and headed up what became a dry, dusty, narrow, windy, dirt road through some small villages. This didn’t appear to be a main road - even by Central American standards, and a quick chat with some villagers confirmed this fact.

This sort of thing happens a fair bit, it was particularly bad in parts of Colombia and Costa Rica, open source GPS maps can be great, but do exercise some common sense when using them. The rest of the ride was uneventful.

Crossing Rio Dulce

Lago Izabal is the largest lake in Guatemala, and it feeds into the Atlantic Ocean via Rio Dulce which is navigable by ship. As a result pirates used to sail into the lake and wreak havoc on the Spanish colonies located by the lake. King Felipe of Spain ordered a castle built to defend the lake in 1595. Over the next century it served as a defensive outpost as well as a prison during a lull period in pirate attacks.

Today the castle is known as La Castillo de San Felipe and is located in the lakeside town of San Felipe. I arrived at the gates to the castle grounds, they didn’t let vehicles in, but I asked if camping was permitted in the large parkland surrounding the castle. It wasn’t but this kid upon hearing that I was looking for a campsite did a bit of running around and then got me to follow him to his friend’s house tucked away in a quiet corner of San Felipe and said I could camp in the backyard for Q50 (~$6), which although wasn’t cheap I ended up accepting as it was getting late and I still wanted to have a look around the castle before it got dark.

It was my first time camping since Peru, and one of the reasons I hadn’t done much camping since then I realized was the heat and humidity. It was extremely hot and the mosquitoes were swarming.

The beautifully restored Castillo de San Felipe

Cannons had similar inscriptions to the ones guarding Fuerte San Cristobal in Gracias, Honduras

These walls repelled repeated pirate attacks

The main reason for coming out this way was to visit the Mayan ruins at Tikal National Park. The ruins featured in the original Star Wars movie as the set for the Rebel Alliance’s base and is visually quite spectacular. It features temples towering up to 70m high in what is now a dense jungle setting and is one of the Guatemala’s and Central America’s biggest tourist attractions.

The next day was another hot day, March is the height of summer in these parts, and although there’s little rain at this time of year it is still incredibly humid. Being in riding gear can get a little uncomfortable in these conditions and as I passed Lago Peten Itza, around 35kms from the entrance to the Tikal reserve, the water looked too inviting to pass up and I stopped and had a dip. The water was very clean and clear, just as well because the nearby village of El Remate had running water supply issues and the villagers were coming down to the lake to bathe and collect water for domestic use.

Lago Peten Itza, amazingly clear, cool waters, perfect solution for a town with no running water on a hot and humid day

It was early afternoon when I arrived at the entrance to the Tikal National Park where there was a boom gate, ticket office, a store, restaurant, and a company offering zipline canopy rides over and through the jungle. A guide came up to me and explained that a full day ticket was 150 Quetzals ($20) and while I could purchase a ticket for the following day and camp outside the night before - my original plan - the ticket office would not be selling the next day’s tickets until 4pm around two hours away. He suggested I try the zipline canopy tour while I waited.

I wasn’t particularly interested in ziplining, I’d already done a similar thing in Bolivia and while it was fun, it wasn’t mindblowingly exciting enough to justify the cost that it usually involved. Instead I went to the store and stocked up on snacks for walking around the park the next day and then struck up a conversation with one of the zipline tour guides. He had been working there for the past 10 years and had hopes of one day starting his own zipline tour company. We chatted mainly in Spanish but it turns out he actually spoke reasonably good English as well, picked up from years of working in the tourism industry. I appreciated him opting to converse in Spanish though. Compared to South Americans, Central Americans generally seem more eager to speak English if they are able to, especially in areas of high tourish traffic which is fine but I enjoy the challenge of engaging people Spanish.

One of the few signs of Jaguars living in the region

Before long, the time arrived and ticket purchased, I rode into Tikal. As I drew close to the car park and visitors centre for the ruins, a park guard waved me to stop to check my ticket. I asked him where the campsite was and he pointed in the general direction before turning back to me and asking, “Wanna sleep on top of one of the temples tonight?”

“Uh… yes!”

“It’s Q200, you can park your bike in the carpark, pack a small backpack, and I’ll take you to the place at around 5:30, and you can sleep under the stars and watch the sunrise in the morning”

I was already sold.

After grabbing packing my sleeping bag and mat and grabbing some dinner at one of the cafes by the visitors centre, I met Antonio, the guard, and we started walking into the park. At this point I should add that what we were doing was strictly speaking prohibited. The Lonely Planet guide actually states “gone are the days of bribing the guard and sleeping on top of Temple IV”, nowadays it’s Temple III and the guards still need to supplement their incomes.

It was dusk, the ruins were pretty much deserted aside from a few stragglers heading towards the exit, and the more ‘hardcore’ tourists still sitting on top of Temple IV watching the last of the daylight fade before walking back to their camps and hotels with flashlights.

Some quick background info about the Tikal ruins. Tikal was one of the Mayan centres of their civilization with archaeological findings dating back to 400BC. Six temples and numerous other buildings and structures have been unearthed, excavated, and restored at this site. They are all spread out over a large area of jungle and are all aligned facing East. Pre-discovery and excavation the ruins would have looked like tree and vegetation covered hills, Temple III for the most part is still like this, save for the very top that protrudes above the jungle canopy.

Antonio led me through the park, carefully avoiding the other guards. He asked me if I minded climbing, I said no, then he asked me if I suffered from vertigo or had any phobia of heights, I said no. He suddenly veered off the main walking path and into the scrub and around to an unexposed corner of Temple III. From there it was virtually straight up for over 50 metres, clawing our way up by the the tree roots criss-crossing the sides of the temple and embedded rocks jutting out from the dirt.

Climbing up to Temple III

It wasn’t an overly difficult climb, like an easy grade rock climbing route, except it was a free climb, and I’d have to climb back down the same way the next morning. The top was surprisingly well sheltered and not nearly as exposed as I would have expected it to be, but it was high enough to capture a cool breeze that kept the temperature down and the mosquitoes away. We were facing East, in front of us were the tops of Temples I and II, a short flight of steps from the landing we climbed up onto led up to the entrance of the temple. There was no real “inside” of the temple, or if there was it had been sealed shut. There was only a short hallway after the entrance and the floor was covered in bird droppings. I decided I’d set up my sleeping mat on the first landing by the bottom of the steps.

Twilight views of Temples I and II protruding through the jungle canopy

There was a narrow ledge running completely around the temple, but Antonio warned me not to go around to the other side that faced Temple IV behind us. We had a peek around the corner and clearly visible in the distance were people sitting on the steps atop the temple looking towards us watching the sunset light reflected off our temple and Temples I and II beyond.

“Just try and stay quiet, there will be guards patrolling the area all night but they’ll be gone by around 6am when the first tour groups start walking in and heading for sunrise on Temple IV, after they’ve passed you can climb down and walk over and join them. I’m off now, good luck!” Antonio said as I paid him off and he began carefully climbing down the temple.

So… here we are

Most expensive campsite ever

I sat and waited, and watched as the tourists began to leave Temple IV and walk back down the path far below me, then the guards walked past on their rounds. I don’t think they walked past again for the rest of the night. Then the howler monkeys started, at first I didn’t know they were howler monkeys, the noise wasn’t what I would describe as a howl, but maybe more like a lion with a bad case of laryngitis but still trying vainly to roar his head off. It was a little eerie at first, but the view of the stars was spectacular once they became visible.

It wasn’t the most comfortable sleep, but it was memorable, unfortunately in the early hours of the morning the mist started to develop and the stars disappeared. The howler monkeys started up in earnest as it slowly became more and more light. Unfortunately there was no real sunrise due to the morning mist and cloud.

The climb down

Oops, didn’t see that…

I ate some snacks I had brought with me and drank some water, then packed up and carefully climbed back down, it was a little more difficult on the way down. It was a short walk over to Temple IV, unlike III a wooden staircase had been built to ascend to the top. A large group of people were already assembled at the top. I sat down, they looked like most of them were there together as part of a tour, they would have been there awhile and I guessed they would be leaving soon. So I waited quietly hoping I’d be able to enjoy the view with fewer people around. Then they started singing and chanting and all holding hands, I left to go check out other parts of the park.

“Sunrise” from Temple IV, anyone wandering on this side of Temple III would have been spotted easily from here

Temple I

Temple V

The skies cleared by around 9 in the morning, and it quickly got hotter and hotter. And it was getting more crowded, having started early I had covered most of the main sites by 10:30 and was starting to get tired and hungry. The good thing about Tikal is that it’s spread out, and even the lesser groups of structures are still impressive and fewer people venture out to see them. I spent about an hour just chilling out next to one of the pyramids letting my socks and sleeping bag air out on the grass.

Temple II

Looking down from atop Temple II at the Gran Plaza

Walking back towards the entrance I bumped into Antonio again, he was carrying a shotgun this time, he asked if everything went okay last night, “All good!” I replied, “But I’m pretty hungry now!”

He directed me to one of the small comedors (cafe) by the visitors centre, “A friend of mine runs that place, they’ll look after you there.”

Antonio

I had a hamburger and chips washed down with a soda before walking back to where I’d parked. It was visciously hot and by the time I’d packed the bike and was ready to go, I was soaked in sweat. Deciding to return to El Remate for the night to stay somewhere cheap and go for another swim in Lago Peten Itza I found a cheap hostel called El Paraiso at the end of the village. The owner was a friendly guy who showed me his impressive coin collection, he had several coins dating back to 1920’s and even a couple from the late 19th century. I donated some Aussie and Uruguayan coins for his collection.

The Germans were supposed to be arriving in Tikal that day but I hadn’t seen them at all and hadn’t had access to the internet since arriving in Guatemala to get in touch either. There was no electricity in El Remate that afternoon, so even if there had been wifi it wouldn’t have worked anyway. I wasn’t sure where they’d be staying but later that evening as I was returning to the hostel from having dinner I saw them riding down the road. I waved down Jana, they’d had a tough day on the road, getting lost, some had dropped bikes on a bad road, then stuck in a thunderstorm. I directed them to the hostel they’d made reservations at and then took them over to the restaurant where I’d just eaten so they could get something to eat.

There were thunderstorms in the area but no rainfall in El Remate, lightning could be seen clearly in the distance over the lake. The next day I headed out towards the Belizean border. I was hoping to check out some more Mayan ruins at a place called Yaxha, but the road condition was extremely slippery due to the previous night’s rain, a couple of school buses had gotten stuck too. It was an 111km detour off the main road and less than 1km in I had slowed to walking pace and was still sliding all over the place, eventually dropping the bike. A few guys from one of the buses helped me pick the bike back up and turn it around, I didn’t need to see the ruins that badly.

I dropped it in the mud, these guys helped me pick it up and turn it around. The road was treacherous

The border crossing into Belize was the easiest since crossing between Chile and Argentina, there were no immigration or customs fees (although I did have to purchase insurance for Belize and pay for fumigation) and I was all done in under forty minutes!

The road leading away from the frontier wound its way steadily higher into the mountains. There was the usual amount of dodging trucks, dogs, potholes, and pedestrians. But the skies started to darken and the first few drops started to fall, eventually increasing into a steady downpour as I approached the town of Santa Rosa de Copan, the largest city in the Copan Valley region. Just after the town I turned right and headed back down the hill towards the town of Gracias, so named (apparently) because the Spanish guy who discovered the site had come all the way from the Atlantic coast and sent a message back to his commander saying “Thanks be to God! We have found flat land!” 

Roadside memorial markers on the road to Gracias

Rio Jagua

I found a nice little hotel with parking for the bike and settled in. Gracias was a quaint little town with narrow, traffic strewn, cobblestone streets, which were abominable to navigate. I took the opportunity to get another haircut, 35 Lempira, or just under $2.

There is an old fort from 18th century overlooking the town. It is a star shaped, white walled fort with a pair of cannons gracing the main gate. Within the fort is the tomb of Juan Lindo, who served as president of both El Salvador and Honduras in separate terms.

Fuerte San Cristobal, overlooking Gracias

The next day I took a day trip out to La Campa, a small Lenca (a local indigenous tribe) village further out in the hills. It was a pleasant ride, great weather, and it nice dirt road, hard packed surface, and not too slippery.

On the road heading out to La Campa

Iglesia at La Campa

What I had really come to Honduras for was the Mayan ruins at Copan, just 12kms from the Guatamalan border it was a pleasant two hour ride from Gracias. Although I didn’t stay that long in Honduras most of the roads I rode were in fairly good shape, nice and twisty, pleasant scenery, and not too much traffic. I passed a couple of police checkpoints but was never stopped.

The annual fair at the small tourist town of Copan Ruinas was on when I arrived and unfortunately all the cheaper hostel options were booked out and I had to fork out a little extra  ($25 a night) for a more upmarket room. Everything else, food for example was quite cheap though which helped to make up for it. I had gotten a bit of a cold I suspect from the cooler and wetter weather riding up from the border a few days before, so the more comfortable bed made for a better sleep which helped the recovery.

Came across these live chicks being sold on the street, not for the colour blind

Copan at its height was an important city-state and cultural centre in the Mayan Empire. It is famous among the major Mayan archaeological sites for its very intricate carvings and sculptures depicting the life and times of the various rulers of the region. Like Ciudad Perdida (which wasn’t a Mayan entity) the inhabitants believed in re-using foundations, I guess they figured that if the original building survived its owner, it was worth building on top of it. As a result excavation has found layers of construction and temples underneath temples.

The ruins themselves were only a kilometre away from Copan Ruinas the town so it was an easy early morning walk from the hotel. Entry was $15 for the ruins and another $15 to see part of the tunnel network built to study some of the architecture underneath the existing ruins. And then it was an additional $7 for the sculpture museum, which I didn’t pay for. An English couple who had arrived at the same time asked if I’d like to join with them to hire a tour guide, the guides operate on a flat rate up to 9 people so the more people you have in a group the cheaper per person, I agreed to join in, soon another German guy came along and was convinced to join in too, and then an American family of four, so it worked out to be quite cheap for the guided tour.

One of the several Macaws living amongst the ruins

The guide was quite good, I’ve incorporated most of the info garned from the tour into the photo captions below.

Weird Mayan sculpture of a jaguar with a human face

Stone stela, one of many standing in the main plaza depicting the deeds of various rulers of Mayan Copan through the ages

Looking down towards the Great Plaza and just hidden ball court on the right

Note the intricate stone carvings below the archway, Copan is famous for these

Heiroglyphic stairway, under the cover of a giant tarp for protection, each stone in the stairway has an intricate glyph carved into it and is believed to document the various rulers of Copan, starting with 18 Rabbit, one of the most famous.

The ball court, players kept a hard rubber ball airborne without using their hands, then the best players were used as human sacrifice after the game…

The lucky individual chosen to be sacrificed was placed with their back on this stone, raising their ribcage so their heart could be cut out and then they were decapitated, apparently they were given a cocktail of drugs to possibly calm them down a bit first

It was common practice to simply build new structures on top of old ones, archaeologists have excavated tunnels to explore what lies beneath, the rock used tended to be of volcanic origin and therefore quite porous, a latex like substance was used in the mortar to help withstand earthquakes which were common, and also to prevent water from collecting within and deteriorating the rock

Still more intricate bass relief sculptures were found underneath

The tunnels were quite interesting, although it was hard to justify paying the same as the entrance fee again just to see them. In the 1940s the nearby river was eroding away the ruins so the river was diverted several hundred metres away and a huge retaining wall was built on one side of the ruins. The guide pointed out the various time periods by layer along the height of the retaining wall, the level of bottom of the wall dating back to 900BC.

Later that morning I spotted a few familiar figures entering the site. It was the Germans! They were doing the same thing and had hired a tour guide, they had been in Guatamala for the past few days and had left their bikes in a town not far from the Honduras border and caught a bus over to Copan for the day to see the ruins. The $35 customs fee made Honduras definitely of the most expensive country to enter overland.

Ran into the Germans again! They were on a day trip across the border from Guatemala sans bikes to avoid paying Honduras’s $35 customs fee

We hung out for awhile, they were taking their time a bit more and seeing a bit more of Guatamala, but would be headed over to Tikal, another famous Mayan ruin site in Guatamala, around the same time as me. We agreed to try and meet up again there. When they left to catch their bus back to Honduras, I decided to walk further up the road to another nearby set of ruins. Las Seputuras, meaning “the graves” was so named because of a large number of bodies discovered there. It used to be a residencial area for the more wealthy and important residents of Copan. While not quite as visually spectacular as Copan, there were fewer tourists around and it was nice and quiet. 

Las Sepulturas ruins, a residencial area dating back to 1400BC, well before the Mayan period, during Copan’s heyday it served to house the more affluent members of Copan society

I had an early night that night, still trying to beat off the mild flu-like symptoms before they got worse. I was generally okay during the day aside from a little bit of congestion.

The border with Guatamala from what I had read was a fairly simple straightforward place and little hassle was expected. This was true of exiting Honduras. Entering Guatamala wasn’t too bad either, although the customs lady seemed a little more picky about documentation requirements and asked more questions than at other places. I had to pay a $20 fee for customs, payable at the local bank branch fifty metres away, I arrived 8th in line for a single teller. It took an eternity to get through. Finally, paid up with receipt in hand I returned to customs only to be told that their computer system was down and I’d have to wait while it was fixed. Eventually I was cleared to leave, I had to display a special sticker on my bike indicating my bike was a temporarily permitted to enter. Overall it took three and a half hours to cross into Guatamala, longest overland border crossing time so far.

Rewind six months previously, I was still in Chile awaiting the arrival of my bike and staying at Nuevo Horizonte Hostel, in Barrio Brasil, Santiago. One of the other blokes in the dorm was Domingo, from El Salvador. We got along well and before I left he said that when I eventually came through El Salvador to drop in and stay with him and his family. Fast forward six months and a lot of traveling later, I was finally in El Salvador and about to drop in on Dom and his family.

El Salvador is the smallest yet most densely populated of all Central American countries, and while it does have the largest economy in the region, much of this comes from remittance from Salvadorans living overseas. As such, unemployment is still very high and gang violence and organized crime are major problems.

Back at customs, the Germans, the Finnish, and I, parted ways. The Europeans were heading to the coast, and then Guatemala, while I was heading through the mountains towards San Salvador and then north back into Honduras. We would more than likely meet up again further down the track. That night I stayed in a small scenic village called Alegria, about 120kms east of San Salvador. While unpacking, I found the keys I thought had been stolen in Honduras at the bottom of the box. I was relieved that they hadn’t been stolen yet guilty for suspecting the guys at the border.

View from the hills near Alegria

Just outside of the town is a crater lake, like Nicaragua and the rest of Central America, El Salvador has plenty of volcanoes and is no stranger to eruptions. The lake, Laguna de Alegria is the main attraction of the town, but there are plenty of other hiking opportunities close by.

Laguna de Alegria, a volcanic crater lake, the water is very green due to high mineral content

The road up to the lagoon was paved - with cobblestones

Domingo and his dad, Domingo Senior, drove over and met me in Alegria the next day. The elder Dom suggested we head out to Perquin, in the far northeast of the country, and see the Revolutionary War Museum and guerilla camps. Perquin was a town of note during the 12 year civil war (1980-1992) as a guerilla stronghold and Radio Venceremos, an underground anti-government radio station, broadcast from nearby. It was quite a long way, over 100kms to Perquin from Alegria, and very close to the border with Honduras. The road leading up there is called Ruta de Paz, or “peace road”.

Dom and Domingo Snr

Wreckage of a UH60 helicopter now on display at the war museum

Posters protesting the US involvement in opposing the leftist rebels

Selection of firearms used during the war

Next to the museum was a reconstruction of a guerilla base, with underground tunnels, camouflaged hideouts, swinging rope bridges, and a lot of fragmented artillery shells, bombs, and other weapons on display.

Hidden tunnels used by guerillas

Rickety rope swing bridge thing

And some more heavy ordnance

We decided to try and take a shortcut back to Dom’s house in Quezaltepeque, near San Salvador. Apparently there was a new highway that was more or less completed stretching most of the way. We figured the less completed sections would still be navigable enough so we went ahead, Dom and his Dad in their ute with some of my gear, and me following on the bike. It was for the most part ok, there were several sections of gravel, some quite deep where the front wheel tended to plough through the surface. Then the road deteriorated into a steep and sandy uphill climb. The ute lost traction in the sand, the rear wheels spinning up. The rear of the bike also started to spin up as the tyre struggled to find purchase eventually giving up and sliding backwards until it finally slipped over onto its side.

The shortcut back home

Fortunately riding on suspect terrain is always easier when there’s someone with you to help lift the bike back up when things go pear shaped. We eventually arrived back at their house well into the evening without any further dramas.

There was one small river crossing on a ferry as the bridge wasn’t complete

Dom lives with his parents, older brother Gherson, and younger sister Chelsea. Domingo Snr owns and runs a hardware and building supplies business less than a minute’s walk from their house. It was national election day the next day, Dom Snr showed me around town as he went to cast his ballot. He seemed well known around town and stopped frequently to greet and chat with friends. Being in the same business for thirty years helps one develop a reputation and Quezaltepeque isn’t a big town, but it’s not that small either.

The family business, building and construction supplies

That afternoon we went to the beach for a well earned swim. Like the rest of Central America, it was hot in El Salvador, at least it wasn’t quite as windy as Nicaragua. For dinner that night we went to a Pizza Hut restaurant. I haven’t seen a Pizza Hut restaurant in years (I think they died a slow and painful death in Australia and became takeaway only outlets) let alone been to one. They’re apparently quite popular and going strong in El Salvador. It was here that I tried Horchata, a popular drink among Salvadorans made from ground morrow beans mixed with milk and sugar, it tasted a little bit like malt flavour soya milk and was quite refreshing.

The house had a large covered parking area where I parked the bike. Gherson, a qualified mechanic, also had a lot of tools laying about which came in very handy the next day as I spent some time cleaning the bike and doing some general maintenance.

That afternoon Dom took me up to check out Volcan San Salvador.

Inside the gigantic crater of Volcan San Salvador, a mini crater within the crater can be seen at the bottom, and somebody has marked out the word “PAZ” (peace) in white stones

The volcano last erupted in 1917, evaporating a crater lake that had formed there and leaving the second smaller crater in the middle. Fields of the solidified lava trails can be seen close to the city as remains of that eruption.

Dom kept me busy, we went to another crater lake, Lago Coatapeque. This lake was huge, and we went for a swim in it, the water was cooler than I’d expected.

Lakeside of Lago Coatapeque

View from the road leading up the side of the crater walls

View from Cerro Verde, a mountain overlooking the lake

Volcan Izalco, no signs of activity for some years now, but still considered active

We also went to Puerto La Libertad, a coastal town known for fishing and surfing. One of the main features is the pier that houses a fishmarket as well as launches fishing boats off the far end away from the surf.

The pier, the covered section is a fish and seafood market, then there are fishing boats parked all along the sides of the pier waiting to be winched into the water

Surfers jump off the pier into the surf

Fishing boat parking lot

Food review from El Salvador: the subject is “pupusas”. Similar to a tortilla, they are a flat bread lightly fried usually made from corn flour, but unlike tortillas they have a filling, sometimes queso (cheese), sometimes frijoles (beans), sometimes carne (meat), sometimes a mixture of two or three of the above. There are shops all over the country specializing in making and selling them called “pupuserias”. They’re a popular breakfast food and I had them on more than one occasion for breakfast. But they can (and are) eaten any time of day.

Pupusas!

San Salvador by night from Los Planes de Renderos, the lookout was technically closed for renovation but I climbed over the barriers and took some photos anyway, then we went and had pupusas

The highest point in El Salvador is about 80kms north of San Salvador near the Honduras frontier called El Pital, Dom had been there many times hiking and camping. It was not far from the town of La Palma, where peace negotiations to end the civil war began in 1992. The road leading up to El Pital was a steep dirt road, the ute had to stop around 2kms short of the top because of traction issues so we walked the rest of the way. There was a small cafe/hotel/campground at the top.

El Pital, highest mountain in El Salvador

One of the groundsmen working there suggested we walk over through the forest to where there was a lookout situated on the top of a huge rock sitting on the side of the mountain. We eventually found it, it was overgrown with trees and easy to miss except for a large tree trunk laying across the gap between mountain side and rock, someone had strung out a cable to assist people in walking across the tree trunk.

Makeshift “bridge” across onto the big rock

The gap was at least 20 metres deep. The views from the top of the rock were fantastic though. We could clearly see the frontier and well into Honduras from the vantage point.

What lies between a rock and a hard place

View looking into Honduras

There was one last place Dom wanted to show me, Suchitoto, the cultural capital of El Salvador and a popular weekend excursion destination for Salvadorans. It was situated close to Lago Suchitlan, and artificial lake formed when the Cerron Dam was built. We took a boat ride over to one of the islands in the lake, known for being a bird habitat, according to the boatman it was nesting season and even from a distance we could hear the buzzing of birds. There were obviously a lot of water birds like ducks and storks, but also a few hawks and condors too.

Bird Island on Lago Suchitlan

Suchitoto

Domingo and his family were wonderful hosts and promised to come visit Australia one day, Gherson and Dom Snr expressed interest in opening a hardware store there too.

But for now it was back to Honduras. This border was surprisingly peaceful, it was mainly used by trucks and therefore there were no “helpers” around to hassle me, they still charged me $3 at immigration and another $35 at customs plus about 12 photocopies of various documents, and took an age to complete the paperwork, but it was an easy enough process with little real hassle.